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THOUGnTS 

ox 

PERSONAL   RELIGION, 

BEING  A  TREATISE 

THE  CHKISTIAN  LIFE 

ni  m 
TWO  CHIEF  ELEMENTS,  DEVOTION  AND  PRACTICE. 


BY 

EDWARD  MEYRIOKGOULBURN,  D.D., 

rCBBKIfDAQT  OF  ST.  PATTL^B, ^])4»iatBP19%B»«I8HOP  OT  OXTOKD,  AMD  ONI 

OF  T11K        ■     ^ 
FOUB^AXKRIOAjt'^iTIoir  ilHJLMGBD, 

WITH  A  PREFATORY  NOTE, 

BT 

GEORGE  n.  nOUGHTON,  D.D., 

KKCTOB  or  Tin  OUURCH  OF  Tm  TRAKSnOVBATION  IX  T 

ciTT  or  nw  Touc 


NEW    YORK: 
D.    APPLETON   AND    COMPANY, 

448   A  445  BBOADWAY. 

1867. 


2- 


r^^^ 


I 


1^ 


TO 

WILLIAM    GIBBS,  ESQ., 

Of  TTimSPULD, 

THB  KISD  FRIEND  OF  THE   POOR,  • 

TDK     MUNIFICEXT     PATRON     OF    ALL     GOOD     WORKS, 

AXD 

A   LOTAL  SON  OF  THE  ENGLISH  CHURCH, 

g:bcsf  ^agcs  are  |nsmbrb 

WITH   RETKBBXCS,  GRATITUDE,   AND  AFFECTION. 


9L  ScflSBX  Oardbnis  IItdb  Park,  ) 
October  17,  ISCl.  f 

Mv   DEAR   Mr.    GlDBS, 

You  have  kindly  permitted  mo  to  inscribe  to  you  thi.s 
little  treatise  on  the  Christian  Life.  Most  heartily  do  I  wish  that 
I  had  some  worthier  tribute  of  respect  and  afl'cction  for  one,  wlio 
has  shown  me  such  unceasing  kindness,  and  has  been  the  instru- 
ment of  such  incalciUable  blessings  to  my  flock.  But  I  know  you 
will  believe  that  my  acknowledgement  of  all  that  I  owe  to  you  is, 
if  not  of  any  great  value,  at  any  rate  sincere. 

We  hav-c  laboured  much  and  happily  together  in  the  cause  of 
the  New  Church,  which  your  munificence  has  enabled  us  to  com- 
plete and  to  endow.  Perhaps  this  little  book  may  serve  as  a  me- 
morial of  the  happy  hours  so  spent  in  one  another's  company, — 
hours  which,  I  can  assure  you,  have  been  some  of  the  pleasautest 
of  my  life. 

The  leading  thoughts  of  my  treatise  arc  so  well  expressed  by 
a  passage  from  a  work  which  you  gave  me.  that  I  should  hke  to 
adopt  it  as  my  motto : 

"Tbo  oftcner  I  read  Jeremy  Taylor,  thft  morofl  am  satisfied  of  the  ex- 
cellence of  his  method  of  recommending  holiness  to  the  heart  and  imaidna- 
tiun,  08  well  as  to  the  understanding  of  frail  man  by  dwelling  on  the  inflnito 
lovo  and  ooodesccn&ion  of  onr  gracions  Father  in  taking  so  much  paiim  to 
mak^  it  attatnabU,  ifnai  eagy  ;  and  by  miwinff  U  up  with  every  act  and 
duty  qf  ordinary  li/k,  to  at  to  moke  ev^ryhour  tpent  in  the  world,  as  well 
a*  in  the  elotet^tcien  tanctiJUd  by  its  motive,  an  act  of  religion  and 
obedience.  I  have  often  wished  to  bear  Christianity  incafcated  from  the 
ptilpit  on  thisprinciple."— iS«r  John  Richardton.  at  quoted  in  the  Life  of 
Mr.JoehuaWateon.     VoLiLp.l^. 

You  will,  I  think,  see  that  these  three  thoiights, — the  power 
of  attaining,  under  God's  Grace,  a  real,  though  gradual,  growth  in 
sanctity ;  the  possibility  of  making  the  homeliest  acts  of  common 
life  contribute  to  this  growth ;  and  the  expediency  of  giving  to 
such  topics  as  these  much  more  room  than  they  generally  occupy 
in  Christian  Teaching, — have  been  more  or  less  present  to  my 


VI  Epistle  Dedicatory. 

mind  throughout  my  argument.  I  have  to  thank  you  for  giviug 
me  the  opportunity  of  here  stating  the  fundamental  principles  of 
my  little  book  so  tersely  and  clearly. 

There  is  one  point  connected  with  this  treatise  on  which  an  ex- 
planation seems  necessary.  By  those  who  know  what  an  all-im- 
portant position  the  Holy  Scriptures  hold  in  the  Economy  of  Grace, 
it  will  be  remarked  as  a  grievous  omission,  that  in  that  part  of  the 
work,  which  professedly  treats  of  Devotional  Exercises,  there  should 
not  be  a  chapter  devoted  to  the  study  of  Scripture.  My  answer  is, 
that  a  single  chapter  could  not  do  justice  to  a  subject  so  wide  and 
important,  and  that  I  have  already  published  a  small  volume  upon 
it,  which  has  met  with  a  fair  circulation  and  a  kind  reception.  I 
do  not  wish  to  repeat  myself  in  print. 

It  only  remains  to  add,  by  way  of  explaining  some  peculiarities 
of  the  style,  that  these  pages,  before  they  were  thrown*  into  the 
shape  of  a  treatise,  have  been  orally  delivered,  some  of  them  in 
your  own  hearing,  in  the  form  of  Sermons ;  but  that  the  subject 
of  them  has  been  upon  my  mind  for  seven  or  eight  years,  and  in 
the  course  of  that  period  most  of  the  chapters  have  been  recon- 
sidered and  written  afresh.  Faults,  no  doubt,  many  will  be  found 
in  them  ;  but  I  trust  that  on  topics  of  such  transcendent  import- 
ance I  have  not  allowed  myself  to  put  forth  any  crude  or  pre- 
cipitate views. 

You  will  join  with  me,  my  dear  Mr.  Gibbs,  in  the  prayer  that, 
so  far  as  it  exhibits  His  Truth,  God's  Blessing  may  rest  upon  tliis 
little  work,  and  that  what  is  erroneous  in  it  may  be  forgiven  to  me, 
and  neutralized  to  the  reader,  through  the  Grace  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ. 

I  remain,  my  dear  Mr.  Gibbs, 

Your  affectionate  friend, 

Edward  Meyrick  Goulburn. 

"William  Gibbs,  Esq., 
•&«.,  &c.,  &C. 


PREFATORY  NOTE  TO  THE  AMERICAN  EDITION. 


Dr.  Goulbukn,  the  author  of  the  following 
Treatise  on  the  Christian  Life,  is  one  of  the  lead- 
ing divines  of  our  mother  Church  of  England. 
To  his  pen  is  she  indebted  for  a  number  of  tlie 
most  useful  religious  works  that,  of  late  years, 
have  issued  from  the  press;  among  which  may 
be  named:  "Lectures  on  the  Office  of  the 
lIoLY  Communion  ; "  "  Jntroduction  to  the  De- 
votional Study  of  the  Holy  Scrittures;" 
"The  Idle  Word,  or  Short  Eeliqious  Essays 
ON  THE  Gift  of  Speech;"  "Sermons  preached 
during  the  last  Twenty  Years;"  "Sermons 
AT  THE  Bampton  Lectube  IN  1850;"  "Answer 
TO  THE  Essay  on  the  Education  of  the  World." 


viii  Prefatory  Note, 

To  those  of  onr  own  Cliiircli  wlio  may  bo 
familiar  with  any  of  these  works,  his  "  Thoughts 
ON  Personal  Eeltgion,"  if  not  ab-eady  known 
to  them,  will  need  no  word  of  introduction  or 
commendation.  To  others,  however,  it  may  not 
be  improper  to  say,  that  there  are  few,  if  any 
Treatises  of  the  kind,  of  superior,  if  of  equal 
merit.  It  is  a  treatise  marked  by  great  compre- 
hensiveness of  subject ;  strong,  practical  sense ; 
vigour  and  beauty  of  style;  fulness  and  felicity 
of  illustration  ;  and  thorough  warmth  and  spirit- 
uality of  tone. '  Its  words  are,  most  truly,  whole- 
some words — even  the  words  of  our  Lord  Jesub 
Cheist  ;  and  its  doctrine — so  sound  and  moderate 
withal — is  according  to  godliness  (1  Tim.  vi.  3). 
There  is  nothing  in  it  that  is  dry,  uninteresting, 
unreal,  extravagant,  impracticable,  or  beyond 
ordinary  reach  and  compass.  It  is  full  of  stimu- 
lus and  full  of  encouragement.  It  is  a  manual, 
not  so  much,  perhaps,  for  those  who  have  abun- 
dant leisure  and .  lead  a  retired  life,  as  for  those, 
especially,  who  are  engaged  in  the  ordinary 
avocations  of  the  world.  It  will  teach  them 
how,  while  living  in  the  world — amid  its  cares 
and  perplexities — to  live  above  the  world  ;  while 


Pirhifiirij    Xofr.  IX 

not  slotlilul  in  l>llMlK*^^5  i(»  uc  fervent  in  8j'iiit, 
serving  the  Lord ;  in  one  word,  Low  to  sanctify 
the  secular,  all-engrossing  pursuit,  and  the  daily 
toil. 

What  is  thus  said,  is  said  not  without  a 
thorough  knowledge  and  trial  of  the  book.  Soon 
after  its  first  publication  in  England  in  1861, 1 
procured  it  for  my  own  private  use,  and  its 
fi-equent  perusal  during  the  past  two  years,  has 
not  been,  I  trust,  without  advantage.  I  have 
read  it  in  place  of  a  weekly  lecture,  to  a  consider- 
able number  of  my  parishioners,  and,  I  believe,  to 
their  lasting  benefit.  I  have  added  it  as  an  ap- 
proved book  to  our  Parish  Library.  I  have 
placed  several  copies  of  it,  and  to  their  great 
satisfaction,  in  the  hands  of  intelligent  and  ear- 
nest-minded friends.  Li  one  case,  during  a  length- 
ened sickness,  it  proved  a  source  of  much  comfort 
and  instruction — its  chapter  on  the  Magnificence 
of  Prayer,  solacing  almost  the  dying  liour. 

Li  the  present  edition  a  few  verbal  changes 
have  been  made,  in  order  that  it  might  be  the 
better  adapted  for  the  use  of  American  church- 
men ;  a  reference  to  a  verse  in  one  of  tlie  Psalms 
has  been  introduced;  and  two  liturgical  works, 


X  Prefatory  Note. 

by  divines  of  our  own  Cliiircli,  have  been  named 
in  addition  to  tbose  recommended  by  De.  Goul- 

BURN. 

May  tbe  blessing  of  God  rest  npon  the  author, 
and  His  grace  be  given  to  the  reader. 
Laus  Deo! 

G.  H.  H. 

Lent,  1864. 


CONTENTS, 


PART     I. 
INTRODUCTORY. 


CHAPTER  I. 


ON  THE  LOW  STANDARD  OF  PERSONAL  RELIGION  NOW 
PREVALENT,  AND  THE  CAUSES  OF  IT. 

"  A  certain  man  drew  a  bow  at  a  venture^  and  smote  the  king 
of  lerad  bettceen  the  joints  of  the  harness.^'' — 1  Kings 
xxii.  84. 

PAOW 

Religion  widely  diffused,  bat  of  a  low  typo  in  individaals— the 
Immense  motive  powers  of  Christianity  shoald  secure  larger  results 
—Analogy  between  knowledge  and  piety  in  respect  of  their  diffosion 
over  a  wide  area  and  their  shallownees  in  indlvidnals— Is  there  any 
defect  in  tho  means  employed,  which  may  account  for  this  result  f— 
The  Ministry  the  great  means  of  forming  in  man  tho  saintly  charac- 
ter—The guidance  of  the  conscience  (as  distinct  from  its  awakening) 
too  often  neglected  in  our^Ministry— our  aim  to  make  good  Impres- 
slons,  but  not  to  follow  them  np  by  systematic  teaching— Popular 
Lectures  as  a  means  of  difltising  knowledge  compared  with  populai 
Sermons  as  a  means  of  diffusing  Religion— Neglect  of  ministerial 
guidance  of  the  conscience  due  (1)  to  a  reaction  from  the  confessional, 
(2)  to  a  reaction  from  the  dry  moral  sermons  of  half  a  century  ago- 
Earnest  desire  of  holiness  tho  state  of  mind  contemplated  in  the 
reader— This  desire  is  the  rudiment  out  of  which  the  spiritual  crea- 
tion may  be,  step  by  step,  built  up    ...       .  ... 


xii  Contents. 

CHAPTER  n. 

ON  THE  CHIEF  CHARACTERISTIC  OF  TERSONAL 
RELIGION. 

"  Grow  in  graced — 2  Pet.  iii.  18. 

PAGB 

Accurate  notion  of  the  nature  of  Personal  Religion,  desiraljle  in 
the  outset — It  Involves,  as  its  chief  characteristic,  growth  in  grace 
—the  essential  connexion  between  growtli  and  life  in  Nature— no 
spiritual  life  without  growth  in  grace— the  distinction  between 
spiritual  life  and  spiritual  impulses  illustrated  by  the  difference 
between  the  operations  of  life  and  those  ot  galvanism— individual- 
izing scrutiny  of  the  character  at  the  Day  of  Judgment— the 
question  of  our  Religion  being  personal  will  resolve  itself  into  the 
question.  Is  it  a  growing  Heligion  ?— this  (and  no  other)  the  critical 
question  for  each  of  us — Is  growth  consistent  with  relapses  ?  Yes,  if 
the  fall  have  been  one  of  infirmity— the  occasional  strong  impulse  of 
penitent  love— the  Christian's  progress,  like  that  of  the  tide,  is  move- 
ment upon  the  «;/joZe— Growth  in  Grace,  as  in  Nature,  is  by  many 
fresli  starts— all  healthy  growth  gradual — ^no  comfort  in  these  reflec- 
tions for  the  indolent  and  formal— if  we  are  not  advancing,  we  must 
bo  falling  back— formation  of  the  character,  either  for  good  or  evil, 
continually  in  progress 14 


CHAPTER  III. 

OF  THE  ENTIRE  DEPENDENCE  OF  SANCTITY  ON  CHRIST, 
AND  OF  THE  RELATION  WHICH  THE  MEANS  OF 
GRACE  HOLD  TO  HIM. 

^^  Abide  in  Me,  and  I  in  you.  As  the  branch  cannot  bear  fruit 
of  itself  except  it  abide  in  the  vine ;  no  more  can  ye,  except 
ye  abide  in  Me. 

"  /  am  the  vine,  ye  are  the  branches  :  he  that  abideth  in  Me, 
and  I  in  him,  the  same  bringeth  forth  much  fruit  :  for  with/- 
out  Me  ye  can  do  nothing^ — St.  John  xv.  4,  5. 

A  clear  notion  of  the  nature  of  Christian  Holiness  essential— 
The  difference  of  meaning  between  "  "Without  Me "  and  "  Apart 
from  Me  ''—the  fruits  of  the  Spirit  enumerated  in  detail  in  Gal.  v. 
22,  23.— Dependence  of  Justification  on  Christ  generally  recognized 
— Sanctification  not  an  accumulation  of  righteous  acts  and  ordi- 
nances, but  a  momentary  receiving  out  of  the  fulness  of  Christ— the 


Contents 


noil 
elrculattnfc  'Ap,  which  is  the  Hfo  of  tho  vino-branch,  not  from  the 
branch,  but  (Vi^m  tbo  Stuck— all  {{races  inhere  in  Chrlat,  na  ouloura  io 
tho  Sunliftht ;  and  independently  of  Christ,  the  heart  haa  no  grace, 
cvtn  ai»,  iinlcprntlontly  of  the  8un,  a  landacape  haa  no  colour— Iho 
st*crct  of  nanctity,  then,  ia  mutaal  indwelling  of  the  Christian  in 
ChrlHt,  of  ChrUt  In  the  Christian— We  abide  in  llim  by  faith  in  Him, 
as  being  made  to  us  Sonctiflcation— Could  we  doubt  His  wlllingncHH 
to  sanctify  u^,  even  If  wo  had  no  promise  to  that  effect  t— May  not 
our  very  otriiggles  to  bo  holy  be,  in  a  certain  sense,  a  token  of  want 
of  faith  7— yet  He  will  not  (and  cannot)  sanctify  us,  unless  we  yield 
np  tho  soul  into  His  hands — and  this  implies  yielding  up  the  teiU— 
Christ  abides  in  tho  Christian  by  Ordinance,  and  specially  by  tho  Holy 
Communion— how  tho  allegory  before  us  implies  that  even  this  Sacra- 
ment will  bo  profltlees  without  faith— Ordinances  are  merely  chan- 
nels by  which  the  Virtue  of  Christ  is  conveyed  into  the  souls  of  faith- 
ful recipients— Illnstration  from  the  story  of  the  woman  of  Samaria— 
Christ  the  Well ;  tho  Ordinance,  tho  I'ltcher  ;  Faith,  the  muscular 
action,  which  lifts  the  pitcher .21 


CHAPTER  IV. 

PERSONAL    RELIGION   BOTH   ACTIVE    AND    CONTEM- 
PLATIVE. 

"  In  the  year  that  King  Uzziah  died  I  saw  also  the  Lord  sitting  upon 
a  throne^  high  and  lifted  upland  his  train  filled  the  temple, 

^ Above  it  stood  the  Seraphims:  each  one  had  six  wings:  vnth 
twain  he  covered  his  face ^  and  with  twain  he  covered  hisfeet^  and 
with  twain  he  didfiy.''^ — Isa.  vL  1,  2. 

The  subject  falls  into  two  great  divisions- The  angelic  life  the 
model  of  the  Christian— Adoration  and  Service  the  elements  of  the 
angelic  life— Monastlclsm  discards  the  latter  of  these  elements— 
the  active  services  of  holy  Angels— necessity  for  work  in  tho  consti- 
tution of  our  nature — each  of  us  has  a  stewardship,  and  a  work  an- 
nexed to  it,  In  the  great  social  system — the  "business'*  of  the  child 
and  of  the  slave— the  two  chief  scenes,  In  which  angels  are  seen  en- 
gaged in  Worship— the  barrenness  and  weariness  of  activity,  if  not 
fed  from  the  springs  of  devotion — defective  devotion  the  snare  of  these 
busy  times— The  angelic  life  haa  been  led  upon  earth,  under  the  pres- 
sure of  physical  inflrmitics,  by  Christ— His  persistent  activity  and 
unwearied  devotion — Service  and  Prayer  most  interpenetrate  one  an- 
other—prayer the  spot  of  God's  children— are  we  men  of  prayer  f     .    87 

B 


xiv  Contents. 


PART    II. 
THE    CONTEMPLATIVE    LIFE. 


CHAPTER  L 


OF    THE    MAGNIFICENCE    OF    PKAYEE,    AND    THE    PEAO- 
TICAL   DEDUCTIONS    FEOM  THAT   DOOTRINE. 

"jETe  that  comelh  to  God.'''' — Heb.  xi.  6. 

PAOH 

An  effort  necessary  to  grasp  tho  idea  of  prayer— Gradual  ascent 
as  necessary  to  the  mind  in  reaching  a  great  idea  as  to  the  body  in 
reaching  a  great  height — Prayer  a  coming  to  God — "wo  will  seek  to 
realize  the  grandeur  of  this  idea — supposed  privilege  of  consulting 
in  our  difficulties  the  wisest  and  best  man  upon  earth— of  consult- 
ing a  departed  parent  or  friend— of  consulting  our  guardian-angel 
—proof  that  such  intercourse  between  this  world  and  another 
would  be  largely  practised,  if  it  were  feasible — these  hypotheses 
help  us  to  realize  the  idea  of  coming  to  God,  which  however  must 
always  transcend  our  powers — God  permits,  invites,  commands 
our  approach— But  may  not  the  consciousness  of  our  guilt  debar 
us  from  access  ?— were  it  not  for  Christ,  it  must  be  bo — the  sym- 
bolism of  the  surplice— difficulty  of  rescuing  prayer  from  formality 
—design  of  this  chapter  to  help  us  in  such  difficulties— the  exer- 
cise however  demands  time — which  might  perhaps  be  gained  by 
self-discipline- a  little  well  done  better  than  much  done  superficially 
— tlie  end  of  stated  Prayers  (as  well  as  the  entrance  into  tJiem) 
ghould  be  made  tho  subject  of  attention— we  must  watch  against  eub- 
Bequent  levity 61 


Contents,  xv 


CHAPTER  11. 

OP    THE     TWOFOLD    ASPECT   OF    PRAYER,    AND    THE    NB- 
CJISSITY    OF    PRACTISING    IT    IN    BOTH    ASPECTS. 

*•  Let  my  prmjer  be  ad  forth  be/ore  thee  a»  iruxnte :  and  the 
h/Hng  up  of  my  hands  a»  the  evening  eacriJice.'^—TsALu 
cxU.  2. 

PAQB 

Pmyer  introdaecd  in  two  dlffbrent  connexion*  in  the  Bermon  on 
the  Mount— Prayer  a  mciins  of  supplying  our  wnnt*  nnd  also  »n  act 
of  liomage  to  Qod— the  Christian  a  priest— his  sacrifice  of  tbo  body 
—his  aacrifico  of  a]me— his  sacrifice  of  prayer— incense  a  typ«  of 
prayer— the  Altar  on  which  these  aacriflces  must  bo  made— prayer 
as  a  tax  npon  our  time  compared  to  alms  as  a  tax  upon  our  substance 
— thlnlc  of  yourself  as  a  priest  -when  you  oflbr  prayer— how  these 
thooghts  may  help  us  against  the  temptation  to  leave  off,  when  pmyer 
promises  to  be  dry  and  barren— we  pray  for  God's  honour,  not  ex- 
clnsively  for  our  own  comfort— when  you  cannot  pray  as  you 
would,  pray  as  you  can— perseverance  in  prayer  uiider  dlBcourago- 
mcnts  the  most  acceptable  offering— an  illustration  of  this  from 
the  writings  of  St.  Francois  de  Sales— necepfity  of  redeeming  onr 
Frayera  from  selfishness,  by  (1)  mixing  intercession  with  them— 
(2)  and  by  mixing  praise  with  them— Praise  often  quickens  a  tor- 
pid heart       61 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  SECRET  OF  SUCCESS  IN  PEATEE. 

'*And  in  the  morning  as  they  passed  6y,  tlwt/  saw  the  Jig-tree 
dried  up  from  the  roots.  And  Peter  eattiug  to  remembrance 
sailh  unto  him^  Mailer^  beheld^  thefigAree  vshich  tJiou  cursedsi  is 
withered  atcay.  And  Jesus  answering  saith  unto  them^  Have 
faith  in  Ood.  For  verily  I  say  unto  you,  T/iat  whosoever  shall 
say  unio  this  mountain^  Be  thou  removed^  and  be  thou  cast  into  the 
sea  :  and  shall  not  doubt  in  his  hearty  but  shall  believe  that  those 
things  which  he  saith  shall  come  to  pass  ;  he  shall  have  whalsoevet 
he  saiihy—}IUBK.  xl  20—23. 

Onr  Lord^s  comments  on  incidents  which  pass  before  Him  not 
always  what  wo  shotUd  have    anticipated— the  lesson    lie   draws 


Contents. 


PAGB 

from  the  blighted  fig-tree  not  -what  we  Bhould  have  expected— the 
wthering  of  the  tree  led  St.  Peter  to  reflect  on  the  power  of  his 
Master's  words— Our  Lord  replies  that  His  followers  should  say 
words  of  power  like  His,  if  only  they  will  pray  in  faith  and  love — 
the  srnall  effect  of  the  prayers  of  religious  persons — may  it  not  he  due 
to  their  not  expecting  an  answer  ?— would  they  not  be  surprised  if  an 
answer  should  come? — Our  despondency  as  regards  any  fruits  of 
sanctity  in  ourselves — necessity  of  honouring  God  while  we  pray,  by 
believing  that  He  will  be  true  to  His  promise— ask  for  'definite 
graces,  and  expect  definite  results — A  promise  to  prayer  which  coa- 
teraplates  in  the  petitioner  nothing  but  asking— sublimity  and  free- 
dom of  this  promise 72 


CHAPTER  IV. 

OF  SELF-EXAMINATION. 

^*  And  the  Lord  sent  Nathan  unto  David.  And  he  came  unto  him^ 
and  said  unto  him,  There  were  two  men  in  one  city:  the  one  rich, 
and  the  other  poor.  The  rich  man  had  exceeding  many  flocks 
and  herds ;  hut  the  poor  man  had  nothing,  save  one  little  ewe 
lamb,  which  he  had  bought  and  nourished  up :  and  it  grew  up 
together  with  him,  and  with  his  children :  it  did  eat  of  his  own 
meat,  and  drank  of  his  own  cup,  and  lay  in  his  bosom,  and  was 
unto  him  as  a  daughter.  And  there  came  a  traveller  unto  the 
rich  man,  and  he  spared  to  take  of  his  own  flock,  and  of  his  own 
herd,  to  dress  for  the  wayfaring  man  that  was  come  unto  him  : 
but  took  the  poor  man's  lamb,  and  dressed  it  for  the  man  that 
was  come  to  him.  And  David^s  anger  was  greatly  kindled 
against  the  man  ;  and  he  said  to  Nathan,  As  the  Lord  liveth,  the 
man  thai  hath  done  this  thing  shall  surely  die  :  and  he  shall  restore 
the  lamb  fourfold,  because  he  did  this  thing,  and  because  he  had 
no  pnty.  And  Nathan  said  to  David,  Thou  art  the  man. — 2 
Sam.  xii.  1 — 7. 


David  in  disguise  brought  before  his  own  judgment-seat— "We 
never  judge  ourselves  as  severely  as  we  judge  an  abstract  case— evil 
never  admitted  by  the  will  without  some  palliation— it  is  self-exami- 
nation which  makes  religrion  a  personal  thing — special  necessity  of 
pressing  it  on  members  of  the  reformed  churches— proneness  of  self- 


Contents.  xvii 


PAOI 

examination  to  lapno  Into  formality— neccMlty  of  it  ariaca  ftrom  tho 
dccoltfulnoan  of  tlio  heart— Wjirm  charactors  lilto  David  and  Bt, 
IVtor  apocially  liable  to  •clf-decepUon,  and  why— dangerouanoaa  of 
(rusting  to  Bonio  f:Ur-«polcon  but  dlshonrtt  man  In  a  groat  mercantito 
B|>oca1ation— the  tmat  -which  wo  naturally  phico  In  our  own  hearts 
— oclf-love  consplroa  to  make  dapea  of  na— Moans  to  be  ascd  in  coun- 
toracting  the  dpcoltfolnoas  of  the  heart— As  we  cannot  oorsclvcit  give 
a  fair  Judgment  on  our  own  sine,  might  wo  not  sometimes  call  in  an- 
other to  Judge  Hiom  f  — or  aslc  ourselves  how  such  an  ono  would  re- 
gard it,  if  wo  communicated  it  to  hSm  t— the  better  as  well  as  tlie 
Wiirst  parts  of  our  conduct  need  self<ezamlnaUon— suspect  your  own 
motives— part  of  our  religion  due  to  eustom— part  of  it  a  homage  to 
public  opinion— part  of  it  duo  to  tlio  love  of  keeping  up  appearances 
—part  to  natural  activity  of  mind— difference  botwcou  an  innocent, 
and  a  gracious  motive — secret  prayer  more  or  less  a  teat  of  personal 
religion— dissatisfaction  with  ourselves  of  no  avail  unlosn  it  leads  to 
satiafiictlon  with  Christ 81 


CHAPTER  V. 

OF    INTEECESSORY    PEATEE. 

"  They  made  the  hreatipUUe:  ....  and  they  set  in  it  four  row9 
of  stones  .*....  And  the  stones  were  according  to  the  names 
of  the  children  of  Israel^  twelvcj  according  to  tJieir  nameSj 
Uke  the  engravings  of  a  signet,  every  one  xcith  his  name 
according  to  the  twelve  tribes.^* — ExoD.  xxxix.  9,  10,  14. 

The  symbolism  of  tho  High  Priest's  breastplate— the  Christian 
tis  a  priest  must  offer  iutcrceesion— intercession  and  self-examination 
necessary  to  keep  one  anotlior  in  check- instances  of  intercessory 
prayer  in  Scripture — how  intercession  is  woven  into  the  texture  of  the 
I»rd's  Praytr- testimony  of  tho  Prayer  Book  to  this  duty— grounds 
of  tho  duty— we  are  members  one  of  another,  and  our  Interests  bound 
up  with  those  of  other  men — tho  interest  we  have  in  the  rulers  of  our 
country— systematic  nejflect  of  intercession  for  any  but  tho  members 
of  our  own  family— grounds  of  tho  diBiticllnation  to  it— <1)  it  appears 
presumptuous— answer  to  this— <2)  supposed  Impotency  of  interces- 
sory prayer— reflect  that  In  offering  it  we  co-operate  with  the  whole 
Church— (3)  wont  of  interest  in  others — selfishness  hinders  the  suc- 
cess of  our  prayers— the  ground  of  this  explained — hints  as  to  the  par- 
ticular blessings  which  we  may  ask  for  our  friends       .       .       .       «    9C 


xviii  Contents. 

CHAPTER  yi. 

OF  DEVOTIONAL  HEADING. 

^''And  Elisha  died,  and  thei/  buried  Mm.  And  the  hmids  oj  iJu 
Moahltes  invaded  the  land  at  the  coming  in  of  the  year, 

'•'•And  it  came  to  pass,  as  they  were  burying  a  man,  that,  behold, 
tJicy  spied  a  band  of  men  ;  and  they  cast  the  man  into  the  sepul- 
chre of  Elisha  ;  and  loheii  the  man  was  let  down,  and  touched  the 
bones  of  Elisha,  he  revived,  and  stood  up  on  his  feef^ — 2  Kings, 
xiii.  20,  21. 

PAG 

In  what  sense  Protestants  may  believe  in  relics — advantage  of  asso- 
ciation with  the  wise  and  good — in  society  circumstances  may  nullify 
this  advantage — the  best  mind  of  an  author  mirrored  in  his  devotional 
works— bad  books  a  powerful  agency  for  evil— spiritual  reading  has  to  a 
certain  extent  taken  the  place  of  preaching,  and  therefore  ought  to  be 
regarded  in  the  light  of  a  Divine  ordinance — particular  writers  service- 
able to  particular  minds — great  variety  of  the  inspired  literature — cor- 
responding variety  in  Devotional  works — select  what  suits  you — Eoman 
devotional  works  not  to  be  used  by  those  who  have  Eomish  tendencies 
— read  as  a  devotional  exercise — thinking  of  the  author  (if  deceased)  as 
a  Saint  in  Paradise— avoid  dissipation  in  reading— recourse  to  the  fa- 
vourite spiritual  author  will  often  revive  our  own  hearts  in  a  period  of 
deadness 106 

CHAPTER  YH. 

OF  FASTING, 
"/^eep  under  my  body,  and  bring  it  into  subjectiony — 1  Cor.  ix.  27. 

Some  counsels  on  Fasting  likely  to  meet  the  state  of  mind  contem- 
plated in  the  reader  of  this  book— Fasting  never  literally  prescribed,  but 
the  principle  of  it  insisted  upon — commended  to  us,  not  commanded — 
analogies  between  it  and  the  observance  of  Sunday— division  of  the  sub- 
ject—principle of  Fasting  gathered  from  the  words  of  St.  Paul — the  im- 
agery employed  in  these  words,  the  occasion  of  these  words,  and  their 
connection  with  the  argument — the  principle  of  not  indulging  to  the  ut- 
termost in  innocent  gratifications  illustrated — let  there  be  a  broad  mar- 
gin between  you  and  danger— the  principle  applied  to  amusement — in 
amusements,  however  lawful,,  we  must  lay  restrictions  on  ourselves — 
the  principle  applied  to  food— certain  class  of  sins,  for  the  extirpation  of 
which  Fasting  is  absolutely  necessary — unbridled  indulgence  unsafe  un- 
der any  circumstances — ^how  self-restraint  is  the  highest  freedom— how 
easily  we  may  deceive  ourselves  in  judging  of  our  attachment  to  com- 
forts and  luxuries — stated  seasons  for  Fasting— the  value  and  necessity 
of  such  reasons — the  duty  of  habitual  temperance  no  more  supersedes 
the  stated  Fast,  than  the  duty  of  Prayer  without  ceasing  supersedes  the 
observance  of  the  Fourth  Commandment— Fasting  to  be  spiritualized 
by  its  connection  with  Prayer  and  Almsgiving,  as  the  Fourth  Com- 
n\andment  must  be  spiritualized  by  acts  of  piety  and  charity— luxury 


Contents,  xb 

rxQm 
•nd  0T«r4«8ii«m«Bt  tho  •rlls  of  the  Utno  on  which  wo  are  flUlcu— how 
the  derout  obMrraiioe  of  Fasting  would  applj  •  corrective  to  these 
eviU 11« 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

ON  ALMSGIVINQ. 

"  Thy  prayers  and  thine  alms  are  come  up  for  a  memorial  before 
Ood." — ^Acrrs  x.  4. 
The  two  features  of  tho  rvligioos  Itfo  of  Cornelias— Prayer  and 
AlmagiTlng  coordinate— Prayer  a  fulfllmcnt  of  tho  first,  Almsgiring  of 
the  second  table  of  tho  Uiw— both  spoken  of  as  having  a  sacrificial  fra- 
granoe-Hieitber  have  a  Jaslifying  efficacy;  yet  both  are  acceptable 
when  offned  in  fliith— Alms  often  glren  grudgingly  as  Prayers  ore  of* 
fared  fonnany— what  spirit  In  giving  will  make  our  alms  como  up  as  a 
memorial  before  God?— their  being  offered  on  principio  and  not  on  im- 
pulse—the obvious  danger  which  there  would  be  in  abandoning  stated 
Prayer,  and  leaving  Prayer  to  good  impulse — viewed  as  on  net  of  hom- 
age to  Almighty  God,  l*rayer  must  be  oflered  mtUiodicalfi/— modem 
Almsgiving  seldom  systematic,  usually  impulslTO— how  the  system  of 
things  has  adjusted  itself  to  this  practico — questionable  methods  of  ap- 
peal to  our  sensibilities— «  charity  sermon  defined  and  considered — even 
the  charity  sermon  not  tho  best  way  of  obtaining  supplies— the  Apos- 
tolic precept  inculcating  periodical  Almsgiving,  and  the  principle  of  it- 
how  the  primitive  Christians  acted  on  the  letter  of  it— the  ofiertory  of 
the  early  Church— how  the  principle  of  the  Apostolic  precept  may  be 
now  acted  upon — settle  the  proportion  of  your  Income  or  earnings  which 
is  due  to  God  for  works  of  Piety  and  Charity— open  an  account  of  char- 
itable expenditure,  and  examine  periodically  whether  this  proportion 
has  been  given- if  not,  make  up  tho  deficit — ^from  the  adoption  of  this 
phm  by  eterj/  on*,  would  accruo  (1)  abundant  supply  for  oil  deserving 
charities ;  (2)  peace  of  conscience ;  (3)  a  growing  spirit  of  liberality ;  (4) 
checrfhlness  in  giving— summary  of  what  has  been  said— the  inspirit- 
ing thought  that  we  may  have  memorials  in  Heaven— no  remembrance 
there  without  a  requital- the  fourfold  recompense  of  tho  I'rayers  and 
Alms  of  Cornelius 34 

CHAPTER  IX. 

ON  FEEQUENTING  THE  HOLY  COMMUNION. 

"  Whether  there/ore  ye  eat,  or  drink,  or  whaUoever  yc  do,  do  all 
to  the  glory  of  God:'— I  Cok.  x.  31. 
Modem  convictions  on  the  desirableness  of  frequent  Communion — 
necessity  hence  arising  for  a  change  in  tho  manuals  of  preparation — rare 
Communion  would  be  desirable  if  tho  Eucharist  were  merely  a  com- 
memorative Rite — ^but  it  is  also  the  highest  means  of  grace — and  seems 
from  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles  to  have  been  of  equally  frequent  occur- 
rence with  other  means — difference  between  liveliness  of  feeling,  and 
strengthening  of  principle— it  is  the  latter,  not  the  former,  we  should 
seek  in  the  means  of  grace— old-lhshioned  feeling  in  Ikvour  of  rare  Com- 


XX  Contents. 

PAGB 

munion  analysed— its  good  element — and  its  bad— to  make  frequent 
Communion  available  our  lives  must  be  conformed  to  the  ordinance- 
this  conformity  stands  in  sanctifying  our  common  and  necessary  actions, 
by  supernatural  motives — how  this  sanctification  of  common  actions  is 
expressed  in  the  ordinance— objection  arising  from  the  desirableness  of 
having  stated  periods  for  a  solemn  self-scrutiny — why  should  not  the 
three  great  Communions  be  reserved  for  this  special  scrutiny  ? — frequent 
Communion  not  Popish— Adolphe  Monod's  death-bed  testimony  to  the 
expediency  of  frequent  Communion 146 

CHAPTER  X. 

OF  THE  PUBLIC  SEEVICE  OF  THE  CHUECH. 

*'  If  two  of  you  shall  agree  on  earth  as  toucJiing  any  thing  that  they 
shall  ask,  it  shall  be  done  for  them  of  my  lather  which  is  in 
heaven.^'' — Matt,  xviii.  19. 
The  Charter  of  Public  "Worship  contained  in  Matt,  xviii.  19 — func- 
tions of  Public  "Worship  devolved  both  by  Dissenters  and  Eomanists  on 
the  Clergy— public  Prayer  in  the  Church  of  Eome  resolves  itself  into  a 
number  of  private  Prayers  said  in  public— private  Prayer  and  public  es- 
sentially different— their  respective  charters  examined— cordial  agree- 
ment as  to  -what  should  be  asked  an  essential  of  public  Prayer— difficulty 
of  securing  this  agreement  without  a  Liturgy— defective  practice  of  our 
Church  while  her  theory  is  perfect — coldness  of  the  service  notwith- 
standing the  beauty  of  the  Liturgy — way  to  remedy  this  coldness— study 
the  Services  with  a  view  of  understanding  them— specially  the  Psalms 
— set  yourself  against  the  tendency  to  think  of  nothing  but  your  own 
wants  in  public  worship — ^great  importance  of  making  the  responses  au- 
dibly and  heartily — strive  to  realize  th«  presence  of  the  incarnate  God, 
which  is  covenanted  in  the  Charter  of  Public  "Worship    ....  158 

CHAPTER  XL 

ON  SELF-EECOLLECTEDNESS  AND  EJACULATOEY  PEAYEE. 
'■''Fray  without  ceasing^ — 1  Thess.  v.  13. 
How  we  are  to  reconcile  St.  Luke's  notice  of  our  Lord's  having 
ceased  to  pray  with  St.  Paul's  precept,  Pray  without  ceasing— Prayer  the 
Christian's  breath  of  life— consists  in  (1)  recollecting  the  mind,  and  (2) 
aspiring  toward  God— God  ever  present  in  the  depth  of  our  spirits— the 
refreshment  of  drawing  ourselves  into  His  presence  from  outward 
things — ejaculatory  Prayer — why  called  ejaculatory— illustration  of  the 
subject  from  the  arrow  which  fetches  down  a  bird — instance  of  the  suc- 
cess of  ejaculatory  Psayer  in  the  history  of  Nehemiah — recognition  of 
ejaculatory  Prayer  in  our  Liturgy— Materials  for  ejaculatory  Prayer  on 
ordinary  occasions— our  daily  portion  of  Scripture — the  Psalms— stated 
Prayers  cannot  be  dispensed  with,  even  where  ejaculatory  is  practised — 
this  shoAvn  from  the  example  of  our  Lord,  and  from  the  comparison  of 
Prayers  to  respiration — encouragement,  at  the  close  of  the  second  part, 
for  those  who  are  striving  after  a  life  of  sanctity  and  conscious  of  failure,  ITO 


Contents.  juj 


PAET    III. 
THE   PRACTICAL   LIFE, 


CIlAPTEPw  I. 

WHAT  H0LD3  US  BACK.  ^ 

•*  Work  out  your  own  salvation  toith/ear  and  trembling.  For  it  u 
Ood  which  tporketh  in  you  both  to  will  and  to  do  of  his  good 
pleasure.^' — ruiL.  iL  12,  13. 

PAoa 
Practical  character  of  tho  work— tho  Reader  interrogated  as  to 
bis  progrcsa— What  holda  us  back— necessity  of  recognizing  tho 
agency  of  tho  human  will  In  tho  work  of  salvation- necessity  of  re- 
cognizing that  sanctiflcation  is  by  grace— illustration  from  the  proba- 
ble caiucs  of  continued  illness  under  a  competcut  physician— two  con- 
ditions which  might  defeat  the  progress  of  a  rowing  boat— necessity 
both  of  self-surrender  and  of  trust  in  Christ — true  faith  embraces 
Ood*8  commands  itith  obedience — thia  shown  Arom  the  history  of 
Abraham— impossibility  of  sanctifying  ourselves  as  great  as  that  of 
justifying  ourselves— means  of  Grace  will  disappoint  ua  if  we  regard 
them  as  sources  of  Grace — in  what  sense  tho  righteousness  of  sancti* 
flcation  is  inherent  in  us,  and  in  what  sense  not— illustration  of  the 
doctrine  of  this  Chapter  from  tho  Baptismal  Covenant— vow  of  self- 
surrender  In  Baptism— the  free  gift  In  Baptism U8 


CHAPTER    II. 

DO  ALL  FOE  GOD. 

**  And  yohalsoever  ye  do^  do  it  heartily^  as  to  the  Lord^  and  not 
unlo  metij" — Col.  iiL  23. 

The  Chriitian's  practical  life  comprisea  three  etomeata,  working, 
acting,  and  auiTeriDg- how  to  work  devoutly— deatiny  of  man,  aa  ma 


xxii  Contents. 


Immortal  being,  contrasted  with  the  earthliness  of  his  pursuits— ap- 
parent inconsistency  between  secular  pursuits  and  a  heavenly  calling 
—how  monasticism  arose  from  the  feeling  of  tliis  inconsistency— how 
the  idea  of  this  inconsistency  is  often  insinuated  in  conversation,  and 
at  religious  meetings- hypothesis  of  its  being  God's  will  that  all 
Christians  should  have  a  directly  spiritual  pursuit — absurdity  to 
which  the  assumption  leads— the  only  other  alternativo— abide  with 
God  in  your  calling — how  this  is  to  be  done— intention  gives  a  moral 
character  to  actions— various  intentions  in  secular  pursuits  enumerated 
—livelihood— distinction— natural  distastefulness  of  a  want  of  occupa- 
tion—motive of  duty— mechanical  activity— the  supernatural  motive, 
Do  it  heartily  as  to  the  Lord— original  reference  of  this  precept  to  the 
duties  of  slaves— wisdom  of  this  particular  reference— inference  from 
it— thoughts  to  be  entertained  before  entering  upon  our  daily  work- 
renewal  of  our  good  intention  at  intervals- our  lesser  actions  to  be 
brought  under  the  control  of  Christian  principle— yet  without  indulg- 
ing scruples  of  conscience — religious  considerations  which  give  elas- 
ticity of  mind 195 


CHAPTER  III. 

ON  MA.INTAINING  THE  CONSCIOUSNESS  OE  GOD'S  PEESENCE 
IN  THE  WORKS  OP  OUR  CALLING. 

"  The  Lord  appeared  to  Abram,  and  said  unto  him,  I  am  the  At- 
mighty  God;  walk  before  Me,  and  he  thou  perfect.'''' — Gen. 
xvii.  1. 

Realization  of  the  Divine  Presence,  the  nucleus  round  which  the 
spiritual  character  forms  itself— how  may  God's  presence  be  retained 
on  the  mind  when  our  work  itself  is  mental?— undivided  attention 
necessary  to  do  any  work  well— proof  that  the  consciousness  of  God's 
Presence  need  not  interfere  with  active  mental  work— the  mind  ac- 
tively engaged  in  an  extempore  address— yet  in  such  an  address  the 
Speaker  is  never  unconscious  of  the  presence  of  his  audience — means 
of  cultivating  a  consciousness  of  the  Divine  Presence— Secret  prayer 
at  intervals  during  the  day— three  different  conceptions  under  which 
God's  Presence  will  present  itself  to  different  minds— habit  of  culti- 
vating this  consciousness  gradually  formed— quotation  from  St.  Fran- 
fois  de  Sales— helps  to  realizing  God's  presence  in  a  rural  walk — why 
nature  impresses  us  so  slightly— how  thoughts  of  God's  Presence  may 
be  realized  in  the  city— how  the  Incarnation  connects  the  thoughts  of 
God  with  human  Society— lesson  to  be  learnt  from  the  original  pursuit 
of  St.  Matthew 207 


Con  ten  fs.  xxtll 


CHAPTER  IV. 

OF  INTEERUPTIONS  IN  OUB  WORK.  AND  THE  WAT  TO  DEAL 
WITH  THEM.       * 

**  IFJr  «r»  created  in  ChriM  Jenu  unto  good  works^  which  OoJ 
hath  before  ordained  that  w  thouid  walk  in  M<rm."— Eph 
ii.  10. 

PAO> 

Tho  dolnjf  work  oarnettly  for  God  and  in  Qod  will  make  Intcmip- 
tlons  very  barMftln^— «abJ»ot  of  ibo  chapter  propoted— when  troubled 
by  Interruption*,  wo  mutt  copy  tlio  mind  of  Christ,  as  It  transpires  (1) 
Iti  Ills  discourses— wliich  are  not  sot  and  formal,  but  take  their  rUo 
from  somo  object  of  nature  or  Incident  which  lie  comes  across— tho 
oontoxtare  of  our  Lord's  discourses  not  systematic  in  the  usual  sense 
of  the  word— tho  intellcotual  method  and  the  method  of  charity— (2)  in 
His  life— apparent  want  of  plan  in  It— this  illustrated  from  Matthew  Ix. 
— God  bM  a  plan  of  life  fur  each  one  of  us,  and  occasions  of  doing  or 
receiving  good  mapped  out  for  each  in  His  Eternal  Counsels — littlo 
incidents,  as  well  as  great  rises  of  life,  are  under  the  control  of  God's 
Providence— Events  have  a  voico  for  us,  if  wo  will  listen  to  it— Let  us 
view  our  Interruptions  as  part  of  God's  plan  for  us— Wo  may  receive 
good,  oven  where  we  cannot  do  good — It  is  self-will  which  weds  us  so 
to  our  own  plans,  and  makes  us  resent  interference  with  them— the 
true  notion  of  God's  Providence  illustrated— Let  us  endeavour  to  sub- 
serve HiB  designs  for  us 21S 


CHAPTER    V. 

FIOIIT    WISELY. 
"  Sofght  I,  not  atone  thai  beateth  the  air."— 1  Cor.  ix.  26. 

Becond  element  in  the  Christian's  practical  life,  his  rcsUtance  to 
temptations— Satan's  policy  mnst  be  opposed  by  policy— want  of  defl- 
nito  aim  In  resisting  temptations  a  cause  of  failure— the  besetting  sin 
and  its  dcceitftilnees— Vanity  masked  by  an  affected  humility— nndcr 
honourable  emulation— Indolence  masked  under  some  more  super* 
flclal  sin- usual  sensitiveness  of  men  on  the  weak  points  of  their 
moral  character — in  strong  characters  the  ruling  passion  is  more  ob* 
rioos— bints  for  discovering  besetting  sin— in  what  direction  do  the 


xxiv  Contents. 


PAGH 

results  of  BcIf-examiu<ition  point  ?— What  occurrences  give  us  pain  and 
pleasure  ?— having  found  the  besetting  sin,  bend  the  whole  strength  of 
your  "will  against  it— the  noiseless  current  of  the  bosom  sin  is  always 
setting  on  a  shoal — A  glimpse  of  God's  love  and  grace  necessary  tc 
counteract  the  depression  which  results  from  self-knowledge       .       .  230 


CHAPTER  VI. 

OF  THE  NATUEE  OF  TEMPTATION. 
"  Then  was  Jesus. . . .  tempted  of  the  deviV — Matt.  iv.  1. 

Brightness  and  cheerfulness  of  mind  necessary  to  spiritual  con- 
quests—depression under  temptation  often  arises  from  misapprehen- 
sion of  its  nature— the  eagle  training  her  young  to  fly,  an  emblem  of 
the  way  in  which  God  disciplines  His  children — typical  character  of 
Israel's  pilgrimage  in  the  wilderness— the  beginner  in  religion  bafiled 
by  a  host  of  temptations — special  temptation  which  besets  prayer — 
and  Holy  Communion— our  non-abandonment  of  the  struggle  an  au- 
gury that  God  has  not  forsaken  us— discomfort  arising  from  mistakes 
on  the  nature  of  temptation— temptation  cannot  become  sin  till  the 
will  consents  to  it — nor  is  it  always  a  sign  of  a  sinful  nature— this 
proved  by  our  Lord's  temptation— and  by  the  trial  of  Abraham's 
faith— guilt  arising  from  the  corruption  of  our  nature  removed  by 
Baptism— the  doctrine  of  this  chapter  applied  to  temptations  in  prayer 
—honour  put  by  Christ  upon  prayer  under  discouragement— heavi- 
ness resulting  from  the  consciousness  of  many  sinful  inclinations — 
the  blessedness  and  dignity  of  manifold  temptations— God  offers  to  a 
soul  beset  by  them  an  eminence  in  the  Divine  Life       ....  240 


CHAPTER  VII. 

FIGHT  WITH  DISTEUST  IN  SELF  AND  TEUST  IN 
CHEIST. 

^^  And  in,  the  fourth  watch  of  the  night  Jesus  went  unto  them^ 
walking  on  the  sea.  And  when  the  disciples  saw  him 
walking  on  the  sea  tliey  were  troubled,  saying,  It  is  a 
spirit :  and  they  cried  out  for  fear.  But  straightway  Jesus 
spake  unto  them,  saying,  Be  of  good  cheer  ;  it  is  I:  be  not 
afraid.    And  Peter  answered  him  and  said,  Lord,  if  it  be 


Contents.  xxv 

thou,  hid  fiM  come  unlo  thee  on  the  water.  And  ha  taid, 
Come.  And  when  Peter  wu  ootne  down  out  of  the  ehip, 
he  walked  on  the  water  U>  go  to  Jettu.  But  when  he  eate 
the  wind  boi^eroua^  he  wa»  a/raid;  and  beginning  to  sitd\ 
he  cried  eayinff^  Lord,  eave  me.  And  immediately  Jcsti* 
etretched  forth  hie  Jtand^  and  caught  him^  and  eaid  unto  him 
O  thou  of  little  faith,  wherefore  didst  thou  dtmif /"— Matt 
xiv.  25 — 81. 

vxow 
Ilarmony  of  Bcripturo  characters  with  themselves,  and  argument 
thence  arUing  in  favour  of  their  authenticity— Rehearsal  before- 
hand of  St,  rctcr's  trial  and  fall— critical  temptations  occur  hut  sel- 
dom—small ones  not  to  be  despised,  as  being  a  previous  rehearsal  of 
great  ones— little  temptations  an  excellent  dlBrlpllno  of  hamlUtj'— in- 
stances in  which  great  Saints  have  broken  down  in  tlioir  chamctoris- 
tic  graoe,  and  the  moral  discipline  of  humility  liltely  to  bo  brought 
out  of  such  failures— sclf-tru8t  a  certain  source  of  failure— it  often 
lurks  under  disgust  with  self— how  the  abnegation  of  BoIf-truBt  is  con- 
nected with  elasticity  of  mind  In  the  spiritual  combat— how  trust  In 
Christ  is  taught  in  the  narrative  before  ue— never  look  temptations 
full  in  the  face— look  away  from  them  to  Christ,  who  is  to  conquer  In 
you — weaken  the  alTection  for  Bin  by  filling  the  mind  with  the  thought, 
and  the  heart  with  the  love,  of  Christ — Satan's  strongest  osBault  poe* 
si biy  reserved  for  the  last— terrors  of  the  lost  conflict  parallel  with 
those  of  the  disciples  in  the  boat — let  ns  nerve  ourselves  by  faithful- 
ness in  lesser  trials  for  this  last  oanflict 251 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

FIGHT  WATCHFULLY 

*'  Keep  thy  heart  with  all  diligence  :  for  out  of  it  are  tJic  issuei 
of  life:'— Prox.  iv.  23. 

The  great  force  of  the  expression.  Keep  thy  heart  above  all  keep' 
tn{^— necessity  for  keeping  the  heart,  arising  from  the  fact  that  It  is 
the  key  of  the  spiritual  position— the  traitors  within  the  fortress— 
the  immense  fertility  of  our  thoughts  and  feelings  a  relason  for  watch- 
fulness—variety  of  emotions  In  conversation— solitude  offers  as  many 
temptations  as  company— let  us  pause  at  Intervals,  and  make  our 
thoughts  give  up  their  passport — what  must  be  done  when  derange- 
ments of  the  heart  are  discovered — spiritual  life  carried  on  by  many 
fresh  starts — The  necessity  of  resisting  evil  when  firet  presented  to 
the  Imagination— prayer  must  be  mixed  with  watchfulness  In  order 
to  success— prayer  the  expression  of  our  entire  dependence  upon 


XX  vi  Contents. 


FAOH 

God— great  difficulty  of  keeping  tlie  heart  ehould  teach  ub  this  dc- 
pondeuce— the  peace  -which  resulta  from  Christ's  indwelling  in  the 
heart— The  peace  in  the  stable  of  the  inn  of  Bethlehem      .        .        .202 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  niGH  PEEEOGATIYE  OF  SUFFEEING. 

"  Venly^  verily^  I  say  unto  thee,  When  thou  wast  young,  thou 
girdcdst  thyself,  and  walkedst  whither  thou  wouldest :  hut  when 
thou  shalt  be  old,  thoushalt  stretch  forth  thy  hands,  and  another 
shall  gird  thee,  and  carry  thee  whither  thou  wouldest  not.  This 
spal'c  he,  signifying  by  what  death  he  should  glorify  God.  And 
when  he  had  spoken  this,  he  saith  unto  him,  Follow  me." — John 
xxi.  18,  19. 

Oar  Lord's  prediction  of  the  manner  of  St.  Peter's  death— how 
the  words  may  be  applied  generally  as  a  parable  of  human  life  in 
youth  and  old  age— suffering  the  third  element  in  the  practical  life  of 
the  Christian — regard  suffering  as  a  vocation— even  when  plans  of  re- 
ligious usefulness  are  disconcerted  by  it — illustration  from  a  wise  geu- 
cral's  conduct  of  a  campaign— what  has  been  said  applies  to  the  lit- 
tle plans  of  daily  life  as  well  as  to  our  prospects  on  a  large  scale- 
trial  of  interruptions — example  of  our  Lord  when  interrupted— suf 
fering  the  highest  of  all  vocations,  as  being  (usually)  the  last— St. 
Peter's  death  the  time  when  he  specially  glorified  God— death  the 
climax  of  sufferings— Even  in  natural  character  trial  brings  out  un- 
suspected graces— Suffering  conforms  us  to  Christ— His  virtues  em- 
phatically the  passive  ones — death  of  Christ  expresses  more  of  His 
Divine  Character  than  His  life — In  what  sense  He  was  made  perfect 
through  sufferings— Christ's  call  to  us  to  follow  Him— the  meaning 
of  the  words,  "  Take  up  the  Cross"— Do  not  despise  little  daily 
crosses -,       .  2T1 


CHAPTER    X. 

OF   EECEEATION. 

"  Whether  therefore  ye  eat,  or  drink,  or  whatsoever  ye  do,  do  all  to 
the  glory  of  God.'"—l  Cok.  x.  31. 

An  anecdote  of  St,  John  the  Evangelist— every  true  representa- 
tion of  life  must  embrace  its  lighter  as  well  as  its  more  sombre  pas- 


Contents,  xxy\\ 


FAoa 
•»(;«•— religion  doalgnsd  to  Icavcn  our  tohol^  lifo— analogy  between 
Rocrvntlon  and  Sleep— we  cannot  afford  to  loao  a  single  waking  mo- 
ment of  oar  time— no  waking  mumont  monUly  indifferent— admlit«lon 
that  recreation  mu8t  bo  an  unbending— recreation  may  be,  and  muHt 
be,  directed  by  oar  minds  to  the  glory  of  Qod— a  passago  of  Scripturo 
whrch  implies  this— What  phould  bo  our  intention  in  taking  recrea- 
tion, expressed  In  wools— As  to  their  form,  Recreations  r  ast  *  i  hino 
cent  (not  necessarily  uwful)— and  Innocent  to  ««— experimental  knowl- 
edge of  our  own  moral  temperament — amnsomcnts  should  be  amns- 
UiK— burdensomaoeM  of  many  (so^alled)  amusoments— ordinary  dul- 
ncss  of  eonveraatlon— what  remedies  can  be  applied  f— every  mind 
has  an  interest  somewhere— oeoasional  toilsomencss  of  foreifni  travel 
—and  Its  cause— even  in  voriety  wo  should  seek  a  unity  of  plan— n 
good  education  should  comprise  some  lighter  subjects  of  study — re 
freshment  to  the  mind  of  even  a  slight  Itnowledgo  of  Nature — '*  Con 
elder  the  lilies  of  the  field"- avoid  escoss  In  recreations — long  per«o<l« 
of  leisure  should  pay  the  tax  of  additional  devotion — general  Imp  or- 
tanee  of  the  subject  of  recreation,  from  its  influence  on  the  mind       .  2S4 


xxviii  Contents. 


PAET    lY. 
S  UPPLEMENTAL 


CHAPTER  I. 

■>N  THE  T^'ISDOM  AND  COMFOKT  OP  LOOKING  NO  FUR- 
THER  THAN  THE  PRESENT  DAT  IN  OUR  SERVICE  OF 
GOD. 

'  He  that  is  faithful  in  that  which  is  least  is  faithful  also  in  much.^* 
— Luke  xvi.  10. 

FAGB 

Wisdom  of  limiting  the  field  of  research  in  the  pursuit  of  knowl- 
edge—wisdom of  beginning  from  one  centre  in  the  practical  life  of 
the  Christian— the  general  principle  applied  to  our  time— the  natural 
divisions  of  time— the  day  the  least  of  them— the  day  a  miniature  of 
the  whole  life— illustration  from  a  convex  mirror— passages  of  Scrip- 
ture implying  that  the  day  is  the  rudiment  of  the  life— our  provisions 
meted  out  by  the  day— our  anxieties  to  I)a  limited  by  the  day— fore- 
thought allowed  within  the  horizon  of  the  day— our  purposes  to  bo 
limited  by  the  same  horizon — difficulty  of  so  limiting  them— the  morn- 
ing a  miniature  of  youth— how  much  depends  upon  the  way  in  which, 
the  morning  hour  is  spent— entrance  upon  the  business  of  the  day 
compared  to  entrance  upon  the  business  of  life — ^little  crosses  of  the 
day  compared  to  the  great  trials  of  life— consolatory  prospect  of  the 
evening  hour  of  devotion,  if  we  maintain  patience  and  watchfulness 
—Resemblance  of  Sleep  to  Death— and  of  rising  to  Resurrection- 
Look  to  it  tbat  the  days  be  well  spent ;  for  they  make  up  our  life— 
But  if  we  have  thrown  away  (for  all  spiritual  purposes)  many  days, 
still  there  is  a  possibility  of  redeeming  the  time— how  this  may  be 
done— let  to-morrow  begin  a  new  era  with  us 297 


Conlcnts,  xx'ix 

riTAPTER    IT. 

ON  UNITY  OP  EFFORT  IN  THE  SERVICE  OF  GOD. 

•  77iou  art  careful  and  trovbled  about  many  things ;   lux  >n« 
thing  is  needJvl.^—Lxmt  x.  41,  42. 

Tkom 
Simplicity  nnd  depth  of  the  worda  of  oar  Lord  illuatrnted  by  tie 
di'pth  of  a  pellucid  Btivam— neccMlty  of  pcaco  in  eodeavour,  aa  well 
a«  of  poaco  In  the  consciouaness  of  acceptanco—deainblenoaa  of  hav> 
Ing  one  ainglo  principle  at  tho  foundation  of  our  spiritual  character 
—how  la  this  to  bo  reconciled  with  the  obligation  of  fulfilling  all  Uod'a 
comniandmeiita  r— tho  way  in  which  Cbrietian  vlrtuca  hang  together 
— promlncnco  of  a  particular  feature  in  all  natural  characters, 
nnd  of  a  imrtlcular  grace  In  all  apirltual  charactera— growth  in 
Nature  proceeda  from  ono  nucleus— application  of  tho  principle — 
bend  your  eflbrte  to  tho  eradication  of  tho  bosom  sin— other 
gracea  will  form  themaelvcs  while  thla  process  goca  on— Chooee  ono 
maxim  aa  the  foundation  of  the  aplrltual  character—"  Hallowed  be 
thy  Name  " — what  God'a  Name  includea— "  BIcsBcd  are  the  poor  in 
aplrlt"— the  principle  choaen  should  not  be  too  narrow,  aa  aa  to  give 
rare  acopo  for  acting  upon  It— nor  too  broad,  so  aa  to  Include  (vir* 
tually)  many  pnnciplea— It  ahould  lie  In  a  line  of  thought  to  which 
wo  are  naturally  drawn — Cultivate  quietness  of  mind  aa  a  great  po- 
crct  of  encceaa  in  aplrltual  endeavour— how  Ihia  quietness  may  be 
had  even  under  the  conaoiooaneaa  of  falla 803 


CHAPTER  III. 

OF  THE  WAY  IN  WHICH  WE  SHOULD  SEEK  TO 
EDIFY  OTHERS. 

"Z<<  your  light  so  shine 'before  men^  that  they  may  see  youf 
pood  ttorks^  and  glorify  your  Fai/icr  which  is  in  /icai'CTu"— 
Matt.  v.  16. 

A  desire  to  do  good  to  othera  la  tho  very  spot  of  Ood'a  children— 
tbia  deeire  oAcn  directed  in  wrong  channels — tho  history  of  achism — 
miadlreoted  desire  to  edify— ita  roischlevoua  results— fundamental 
pasaage  on  which  the  duty  of  Edification  ia  built — Sermon  on  tho 
Moant  a  perfect  code  of  Christian  duty— danger  of  applying  India- 
crimlnately  words  spoken  to  the  Apoetlea,  or  to  indlvidaala  nndcr  po- 
cnliar  circamatances — "  Lot  ycnr  light  ablno  before  men  "  explained 
from  the  context— do  nothing  to  hide  your  Christian  profession— our 


XXX  Contenis. 


PAGB 

Lord  epcfxks  of  ediflcatiosi  bj'  example— and  does  not  recommend 
even  this  for  the  sake  of  edification— c\cry  light  must  shine  unless 
you  cover  it  up— dangers  of  indiscriminate  religious  admonition— as 
an  assumption  (which  may  bo  groundless)  of  religious  superiority— as 
being  most  often  a  failure  in  point  of  result— as  being  a  display  of 
spiritual  feeling,  which  may  be  mischievous  to  this  delicate  plant— 
ilow  we  may  odify  others— Live  close  to  God,  and  strive  to  do  all  ac- 
tions as  unto  Him— never  lower  your  principles  to  the  world's  stand- 
ard—aim at  appearing  just  wliat  you  arc,  neither  better,  nor  worse- 
eschew  affectation  in  every  form gl9 


CHAPTER  IV. 

IN  WHAT  THE  SPIRITUAL  LIFE  COis^SISTS. 

"  And  he  opened  his  mouthy  and  taught  ihem^  saying^  Blessed 
are  the  poor  in  spirit :  for  theirs  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 
Blessed  are  they  that  mourn :  for  they  shall  be  comforted. 
Blessed  are  the  meek :  for  they  shall  inherit  the  earth. 
Blessed  are  they  which  do  hunger  and  thirst  after  righteousness : 
for  they  shall  be  filed.  Blessed  are  the  merciful :  for  they  shall 
obtain  mercy.  Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart :  for  they  shall  see 
God.  Blessed  are  tite  peacemakers :  for  they  shall  be  called  the 
children  of  God.  Blessed  are  they  which  are  persecuted  for  right 
eousiiess'  sake :  for  theirs  is  the  kingdom  of  lieaven.'''' — Matt. 
V.  2—10. 

The  author's  excuse  for  introducing  this  subject  at  so  late  a  pe- 
riod of  the  work — In  what  the  Spiritual  life  docs  not  consist — Not  iu 
ordinances— ordinances  the  means  of  kindling  the  flame  or  of  feeding 
it,  but  not  the  flame— the  gardener's  tools  not  the  life  of  tlie  tree— ■ 
our  unhappy  tendency  to  confound  means  with  endi- — MonasMcism 
aBsumes  that  the  Spiritual  Life  consists  in  ordinances — Scripture, 
where  it  touches  on  the  vitals  of  religion,  omits  all  mention  of  ordi- 
nance—the Spiritual  life  does  not  ccnsist  of  actions — the  fruit  is  not 
the  life — View  of  religion  as  mere  usefulness  congenial  to  the  English 
mind — Spiritual  life  does  not  consist  in  activities — religious  activity 
of  the  present  day— we  all  catch  the  spirit  of  it— our  natural  zest  for 
work  quickened  by  the  disgust  of  young  and  earnest  minds  with  the 
controversial  extravagances  of  the  day — the  mischievous  tendency  of 
this  result — Christian  practice  supposed  to  be  separable  from  Chris- 
tian doctrine — in  what  the  Spiritual  life  does  consist  ?— answers  from 
Scripture— It  is  internal— nol  even  private  prayer  is  the  spiritualJVfe, 


Contents,  xxxi 


in<I»pcndontly  oftlio  mind  iKith  which  it  U  oflbred— It  it  tw/prmatural 
— tho  ai)pIiration  of  thin  tonn  JuBtifiod— It  Is  devduped  amid  trial  and 
o/>;>Mi7itfi>— thin  illuRtrntcd  by  tho  Itcntttudos  of  merkncM  and  moroy 
— tho  (init  beatitude  gives  tho  fundamental  graoo  of  ttio  Christian 
character — applicatioD  of  thceo  various  criteria  in  sclf-oxaminatioo      8 


CHAPTER  V. 

THAT   OUB  STUDY  OF  GOD'S  TRUTH    MUST   BE   WITH  THB 
HEART. 

•*J9tt/  even  unto  tlit*  day,  when  Motet  m  rcad^  the  vail  is  vj)on  their 
hurt,  Neverthden  when  it  thaU  turn  to  the  Lord,  tlie  vail  sJuUl 
be  taken  away^ — 2  Cor.  iiL  16,  16. 

Jowiab  blindncfts  rceultcd  from  a  prodlBposltlon  not  to  believe^ 
In  what  form  the  truth  ia  recognized  that  a  man'a  judscmont  is  liable 
to  bo  prejudiced  by  his  inclinations— non-recognition  of  this  truth  in 
the  attempt  of  heathen  philosophers  to  persuade  men  to  virtue— tho 
method  of  Socrates — historically  Christianity  began  with  an  appeal 
to  the  affections— the  doctrine  of  the  Gospel  makes  tho  same  appeal 
—Moral  effect  which  the  story  of  Christ's  death  is  likely  to  produce 
—justifying  faith  shtjwn  to  be  an  operation  of  tho  heart— every  for- 
ward step  in  the  spiritual  life  must  be  made  with  tho  heart— the  ne- 
cessity of  ^  unction''^  to  effective  preaching— study  of  Scripture  too 
often  drops  into  a  mere  intellectual  exercise — snare  of  the  interest 
which  attaches  to  Scripture  in  a  literary  point  of  view— tho  saving 
truths  are  the  simplest— study  chiefly  Christ  crucified,  who  is  the 
centre  of  Qod's  revelation ftlO 


CHAPTER  VI. 

ON    tlVINO     BY    RULE, 

**  Upon  thejirsl  day  of  the  week  let  every  one  of  you  lay  by  him  in 
store  as  God  hath  prospered  him,  that  there  be  no  gatherings  when 
leomey — 1  Cor.  xvL  2. 

Discrepancy  between  the  general  tone  of  New  Testament  precept, 
and  the  passage  at  the  head  of  tho  Chapter— wisdom  of  St,  PaoPs 
rule  on  tho  subject  of  almsgiving— impossibility  of  adapting  the  rale 


xxxii  Contents. 


pAGn 

to  all  circumstances— general  dearth  of  rules  in  the  New  Testament 
pointed  out,  and  accounted  for — morning  and  evening  private  prayer, 
and  public  worship  on  Sunday  regarded  as  a  sort  of  law  of  conscience 
— nature  furnishes  materials  for  all  the  arts  of  life— as  Scripture  fur- 
nishes principles  for  all  rules  of  holy  living— this  analogy  worked 
out — each  Christian  to  frame  rules  for  himself— grave  responsibility 
of  keeping  the  soul — and  the  necessity  thence  arising  for  a  wise  rule 
and  method  of  life — rules  must  bo  adapted  to  our  temperament  and 
circumstances — rules  urgently  required  in  the  matter  of  almsgiving — 
specific  resolutions  recommended,  framed  on  a  foresight  of  the  trials 
of  the  day— rules  should  be  made  a  help,  not  a  penance       .       .        .351 


CHAPTER   VII. 

OF  THE  MISCHIEF  AND  DANGEE  OF  EXAGGEKATIONS  IN 
EELIGION. 

"  Let  us  prophesy  according  to  the  proportion  offaith.^^ 

EoM.  xii.  G. 

A  comparison  from  the  writings  of  Lord  Bacon— morbid  tendency 
of  the  human  mind  to  caricature  the  truths  presented  to  it — all  heresy  , 
a  caricature  of  truth — this  instanced  in  the  erroneous  views  of  the 
Quaker— and  in  those  of  some  modern  divines,  who  magnify  God's 
Justice  at  the  expense  of  His  Love— spiritual  writers  often  put  a 
strain  upon  favourite  precepts  of  the  Gospel— an  instance  in  which 
St.  Franfois  de  Sales  caricatured  the  grace  of  resignation— natural- 
ness of  character  in  the  scriptural  Saints— traces  of  it  in  St.  Paul— in 
order  to  keep  the  mind  free  from  exaggerations,  read  Scripture  co- 
piously—candidly—and giving  full  weight  to  those  parts  which  do 
not  naturally  attract  you— imbue  the  mind  with  it        ....  363 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

OF  THE  GEEAT  YAEIETY  OF  MEN'S  CHAEACTEES  IN  THE 
CHUECH  OF  CHEIST. 

"  As  the  body  is  one,  and  hath  many  members,  and  all  the  members 
of  that  one  body,  being  many,  arc  one  body  ;  so  also  is  Christ,''''—- 
1  Cor.  xii.  12. 

The  various  extraordinaiy  gifts  of  the  early  Church  «camo  from    • 
the  same  author,  and  work  together  to  the  same  end— variety  in  unity 


Contents,  xxxiii 


pAoa 
the  law  of  nfttnr*— agenoy  of  the  Mine  laws  of  nataro  in  dl«tinot 
■pheree— great  variety  in  llolj'  Scrlptaree— the  unity  of  Holy  Scrip- 
turo  traced  Arom  its  earlier  to  its  Inter  booka— eamo  feature  of  variety 
in  unity  to  be  expected  in  tho  Church  of  Christ— the  ■upematanU 
frifts  have  most  of  them  some  natural  endowment  which  oorreaponda 
with  them — ditTerenoc  of  ohamctcr  and  endowments  In  8t.  Peter,  St. 
Paul,  St.  John,  and  other  scriptural  Saints— religious  experience  of 
diflcrent  Christians  widely  different— conversions  of  a  wholiy  differ- 
ent klml  recorded  on  the  same  page  of  Scripture— our  method  of 
nervlnjr  God  will  differ  with  our  capacities  and  position— lesson  of 
ch.nrity  towards  those  who  take  a  difforcnt  lino  of  religious  thoAght 
from  ourselves— each  Christian  desi^^ed  to  be  an  original  specimen  of 
redooming  love  and  grace 3T3 

CHAPTER  IX. 

OP  THE  IDEA  OP  SACRIFICE,  AS  PERVADING  THE 
CHKISTIAN'S  LIFE. 

"  An  holy  priesthood^  to  offer  up  spiritual  acuriJiceSy  acceptable  to 
QodbyJesui  Christ:'— I  Pet.  U.  6. 

Ail  forms  of  religion  have  Involved  the  idea  of  sacrifice— this  per- 
haps traceable  to  the  lingering  tradition  of  Noah's  sacrifice  after  the 
flood— instinct  of  the  human  heart  which  instigates  men  to  sacrifice 
analyzed— hold  which  the  idea  has  of  the  mind,  shown  by  the  system 
V  Bomonism- the  sacrifice  of  Christ,  which  is  the  central  doctrine 
•f  our  religion,  comprehends  the  sweet-savour  offering  of  His  Life, 
and  the  sin-offering  of  His  Death— fundamental  difference  of  these 
two  offerings  explained— Christ  our  altar — God  still  requires  from 
Christians  the  sweet-savour  though  not  the  sin-offering- the  offering 
of  the  body  aa  a  living  sacrifice— of  praise— of  alms— how  all  these 
three  offerings  are  recognized  in  the  Communion  Service— possibility 
of  offering  an  acceptable  sacrifice  an  encouraging  thought— privilege 
of  being  allowed  to  please  God  by  an  acceptable  tribute— self-obla- 
tion should  form  part  of  our  morning's  devotion,  and  the  spirit  of  it 
should  pervade  our  common  actions— materials  of  an  acceptable  offer- 
ing always  at  hand  —but  no  offering  can  be  acceptable  independently 
of  the  mediation  and  intorceeslon  of  Christ,  Who  is  tb9  tme  altar  '  .  8S5 

CHAPTER  X. 

OP  ALLOWING  IN  OUR  MINDS  A  PREPONDERANCE  TO 

TRIFLES. 

"  Woe  unto  you^  Scribes  and  Pharisees^  hypocrites  !  for  ye  pay  tithe 
of  mint  and  anise  and  cummin^  and  have  omiUed  iht  weigh/f 


XXXI V  ^  Contents. 

ier  matters  of  the  law,  judgment,  mercy,  and  faith:  thesi 
ought  ye  to  have  done,  and  not  to  leave  the  other  undone.''^ — 
Matt.  xxii.  23. 

FAQK 

Attention  to  little  duties  continually  recommended  in  this  treatise 
— and  why — ordinary  life  made  up  of  little  things — great  crises  occur 
comparatively  seldom— Even  duties  not  moral  but  ceremonial  (such 
as  reverent  postures  in  prayer)  have  their  importance— making  tho 
responses— attention  to  iittio  things  may  degenerate  into  scrupulosity 
—case  of  the  Pharisees— two  opposite  habits  of  mind  as  regards  little 
things  imported  by  men  into  their  religion — punctiliousness  in  small 
matters  quite  consistent  with  the  neglect  of  greater — the  comparative 
insignificance  of  ritual  and  antiquarian  controversies,  and  of  the  deco- 
ration of  Churches— formalities  often  adhered  to  by  those  who  pro- 
fess to  disregard  forms— how  the  spirit  of  Religion  may  be  allowed  to 
evaporate,  while  formal  regulations  are  observed — formal  restraints 
as  to  amusement— formal  observance  of  Sunday— "While  you  use  rules 
as  a  help,  keep  your  eye  fixed  on  the  spirit  and  principle  of  them — 
Love  to  God  and  man  the  fulfilling  of  the  whole  Law — view  all  other 
things  as  they  stand  related  to  these  two  great  objects  •        .       .       .  81)5 


CHAPTER  XI. 

OF  IMPROYIXG  OUE  TALENTS. 

"  For  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  as  a  man  travelling  into  a  far 
country,  who  called  his  own  servants,  and  delivered  unto  them  his 
goods.  And  unto  one  he  gave  five  talents,  to  another  two,  and  to 
another  one :  to  every  man  according  to  his  several  ability  :  and 
straightway  took  his  journey. 

"  Then  he  which  had  received  the  one  talent  came  and  said.  Lord,  1 
knew  thee  that  thou  art  an  hard  man,  reaping  where  thou  hast 
not  sown,  and  gathering  where  thou  hast  not  strawed:  and  I  was 
afraid,  and  went  and  hid  thy  talent  in  the  earth :  lo,  there  thou 
hast  that  is  thine.  His  lord  answered  and  said  unto  him,  Thou 
wicked  and  slothful  servant,  thou  knewest  that  I  reaped  where  J 
sowed  not,  and  gather  where  I  have  not  strawed:  thou  oughtcst 
therefore  to  have  put  my  money  to  the  exchangers,  and  then  at  m_j 
coming  I  should  have  received  mine  own  with  usury. ^^ — Matt,  xxv 
14,  15—24,  25,  26,  27. 

Misapprehensions  which  might  arise  from  the  moral  of  the  Para- 
ble of  the  Virgins— how  the  Parable  of  the  Talents  corrects  them-* 


Conlenta. 


the  th:vr.ui.  I  1  ,.ii  :i  .  >i  ,.N  i;r  rio.uiiu  M  .  »,iiii-blirli>klng  fruui  Lm- 
prvKior.Hl  rc-ponniMlty  In  tli.'HO  qualiflod  for  It— t)rdlnatlon  hy  con- 
straint III  Hio  ourly  Cliurch— •»c:intineM  of  cndowmonta  a  pica  for  not 
improving  tlioni— tho  phrase  "  according  to  hii  ability  "  explained— 
8t.  Paul  endowed  with  ten  lalont»— his  Imrrovement  of  tiiem— St. 
Ilarnabaa'*  ono  talent— his  linproveraeiit  of  It— l»ow  St.  narnahaa 
mi«ht  havo  acted  like  tho  slothful  servant— men  largely  endowed  aro 
not  generally  slothful,  and  why— tho  majority  mediocre— wliat  mo- 
lives  induce  tho  slenderly  endowed  to  bo  slothful— What  is  tho  ono 
talent  ODtruHted  to  me?— conjectures  as  to  what  It  may  bo— IIow  may 
I  gain  from  It  tho  largest  interest  t— hard  thoughts  of  Qod  lie  at  tho 
ro.>t  of  unfruitfulnoss  In  religion— Ho  never  calls  ua  to  a  standard  of 
duty  for  which  IIo  is  oot  ready  to  qualify  u«— in  jtroportton  to  the 
burden  laid  upon  us  lie  gives  more  grace 405 


CHAPTER  XII. 

OF  THE  INTERIOR  LIFE. 

•*  TT^en  shall  the  kingdom  of  heaven  he  likened  unto  ten  virgins, 
wldch  took  their  lampSy  and  went  forth  to  meet  the  bridegroom. 
And  five  of  them  were  wise,  and  five  toere  foolish.  They  that 
vere  foolish  took  their  lamps,  and  took  no  oil  wiiJi  them :  hul  the 
wise  took  oil  in  their  vessels  with  their  lamps.  While  the  bride- 
groom tarried,  they  all  slumbered  and  slept.  And  at  midnigfU 
there  was  a  cry  made,  Behold,  the  bridegroom  comeih  :  go  ye  out 
to  meet  him.  Then  all  those  virgins  arose,  and  trimmed  their 
lamps.  And  the  foolish  said  unto  Vie  wise.  Give  us  of  your 
oil:  for  our  lamps  are  gone  out.  But  tJie  wise  answered  saying, 
Kot  so:  lest  there  be  not  enough  for  us  and  you :  but  go  ye  rather 
to  them  that  sell,  and  buy  for  yourselves.  And  while  they  went 
to  buy,  the  bridegroom  came :  and  they  that  were  ready  went  in 
with  him  to  the  marriage  :  and  the  door  was  shut.  Afterwards 
eame  also  the  other  virgins,  saying.  Lord,  Lord,  open  to  us.  But 
he  antwered  and  said,  Verily  I  say  unto  you,  I  know  you  not. 
Watch  therefore  for  ye  know  neither  the  day  nor  the  hour  wher<!in 
the  Son  of  man  cometh." — Matt.  xxv.  1 — 18. 

We  recur  in  this  chapter  to  the  fundamental  Idea  of  the  treatise— 
the  Prophecy  on  tho  Moimt— solemn  period  of  its  delivery— the  tetral- 
•gy  of  Parables,  which  oloces  tho  Prophecy— tho  Virgins  aro  thocn 


xxxvi  Contents. 


PAGB 

who  correspond  fervently  witli  the  grace  originally  bestowed  on  them 
—the  tlame  of  hope  and  earnest  expectation — what  kept  it  burning  iu 
the  early  Church— delay  of  the  Second  Advent,  and  discrimination 
of  character  resulting  therefrom— religion  passes  into  a  matter  of 
principle — modern  Christians  often  go  on  upon  the  stock  of  their 
early  religious  impressions— decay  in  them  of  the  interior  life  of 
faith — how  defectiveness  in  the  Sermons  of  the  day  may  contribute 
to  such  decay— conversion  (not  edification)  regarded  as  the  business 
of  the  pulpit— the  emblems  of  the  light  and  the  oil  explained— so 
much  grace  expended  on  the  outward  life  of  the  Christian,  just  as  so 
much  oil  is  expended  in  keeping  a  light  burning — Prayer  the  means 
of  securing  a  reserve  of  oil— Yet  not  stated  prayer,  but  that  which 
mixes  itself  up  with  all  our  actions— how  iij  the  midst  of  active  ser- 
vice we  may  secure  fresh  supplies  of  grace— necessity  of  spiritual  in- 
dufltry  in  order  to  perseverance — our  treatise  a  protest  in  favour  of  the 
Interior  life ..'...  418 


PART    I. 
INTRODUCTORY. 


UNIVERSITY 


CHAPTER  T. 

ON  TUB    LOW   STANDARD   OF    PEUSONAL  BELIGION     NOW 
PREVALENT.  AND  THE  CAUSES   OF    IT. 

**  A  certain  man  drew  a  •  bow  at  a  venture ^  and  smote  the  king 
of  Itrad  between  the  joint*  of  the  hamee»y — 1  Knvos 
xxli.  34. 

No  one,  however  well  satisfied  he  may  be  with  the 
intellectual  and  moral  progress  of  the  age  in  which  we 
live,  can  look  abroad  upon  the  state  of  the  Church  in 
this  country,  without  gathering  from  the  survey  a 
painful  impression  that  the  standard  of  Personal  Re- 
ligion among  us  is  miserably  low.  Doubtless  there  is 
a  great  deal  of  talk  upon  the  subject  of  religion.  And 
doubtless,  also,  as  the  candid  observer  will  not  hesitate 
to  confess,  there  is  something  better  and  deeper  than 
talk, — a  certain  excitement  of  the  public  mind,  a 
general  sensation  on  the  subject,  which  indeed  is  the 
reason  of  its  being  so  much  discussed.  The  interest  of 
all  classes  is  alive  about  religion;  a  delightful  contrast 
indeed  with  the  torpid  state  of  things  which  Wesley 
and  Whitefield  found,  when  they  were  first  visited  with 
aerious  convictions,  and  from  which  theyVere  God's 
instruments  for  recovering  both  the  Church  and  the 
cts.  But  this  general  interest  in  the  many  is  quite 
consistent  with  a  very  low  standard  of  religious  attain* 


4     On  the  Low  Standard  of  Personal  Religion     [pakt 

ment  in  individuals, — low,  I  mean,  in  comparison  of 
what  might  be  expected  from  the  motive  power  which 
the  Gospel  brings  to  bear  upon  the  heart. 

Let  it  be  considered  that  God  cannot  be  guilty  of 
the  folly  of  employing  a  stupendous  machinery  to 
achieve  an  insignificant  result,  or  a  result  which  might 
be  achieved,  and  has  been  achieved  in  another  manner. 
And  then  let  it  be  observed  how  stupendous  the 
machinery  is,  which  Christianity  brings  to  bear  upon 
the  human  heart ;  that  the  forcG  employed  to  sanctify- 
that  heart  is,  if  I  may  say  so,  the  whole  force  of  God, — 
the  force  of  motive  derived  from  the  Incarnation  and 
Resurrection,  the  force  of  principle  derived  from  the 
descent  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  '  Let  it  be  remembered 
that  it  is  the  repeatedly  declared  design  of  this  ex 
penditure  of  power  to  make  men  meet  for  the  inhe- 
ritance of  the  saints  in  light, — in  other  words,  to 
sanctify  or  make  saints  of  them.  And  then  let  us 
turn,  and  look  about  us,  and  ask  where  are  the  saints  ? 
Is  Christianity  producing  among  us  the  fruits,  which 
God,  when  He  planted  it  in  the  soil  of  the  earth, 
designed  it  to  produce  ?  To  many  questions  respecting 
our  moral  condition,  we  can  perhaps  give  a  satisfactory 
answer.  If  you  ask  where  is  integrity,  where  is 
amiability,  where  is  social  worth,  where  is  attendance 
upon  the  ordinances  of  religion,  where  are  almsdeeds 
and  charitable  institutions,  we  can  produce  our  in- 
stances. But  be  it  remembered  that  many,  if  not  all, 
of  these  fruits  can  be  borne  by  unregenerate  human 
nature.  The  annals  of  heathenism  record  numerous 
instances  of  integrity  and  even  ascetic  self-denial  among 
the  philosophers,  and  many  others  of  a  high  moral  tone 
and  a  brilliant  disinterestedness  among  the  people  at 
large.     Nay,  is  it  not  notorious  that  there  were  among 


I.J  tww  prevalent f  and  the  Causes  of  if.  5 

the  heathen,  men  in  whom  the  religious  instinct  was 
strongly  awakened,  men  of  earnest  minds  who  •  looked 
forward  with  vague  apprehension,  not  however  un- 
mixed with  hopes  of  release,  to  that  future  life,  of 
which  they  caught  a  glimpse  ever  and  anon  from  the 
dickering  and  uncertain  ray  of  the  light  of  Nature  ? 
]>ut  Christian  saintliness  must  surely  go  beyond  this, 
as  being  the  product  of  much  higher  agencies.  And 
where  is  Christian  saintliness  among  us?  Without 
Ii^nying  its  existence,  it  may  be  yet  said  that  none  of 
the  instimces  we  can  show  of  it  arc  of  a  high  caste. 

Indeed,  is  it  not  the  case  that  there  is  a  singular 
Analogy  between  the  present  state  of  knowledge  nnd 
of  piety, — that  in  this  ago  literature  and  religion  fare 
much  alike?  In  what  were  called  the  dark  ages, 
literature  was  the  monopoly  of  the  few  ;  gross  igno- 
rance was  tlie  condition  of  the  many.  There  were  some 
monks  and  priests  who  represented  all  the  erudition 
of  their  times,  and  were  great  luminaries  of  learning. 
And  much  later  than  the  dark  ages,  while  printing  was 
in  its  childhood,  and  the  helps  to  knowledge  few  or 
none,  you  meet  with  men  who  were  great  repositories 
of  the  literature  of  the  day,  giants  of  intellectual  re- 
source.    It  is  not  so  any  longer.     Every  one  knows 

little ;  few  know  much ;  and  fewer  still  know  pro- 
foundly ;  they  have  drawn  what  they  know,  not  from 
the  fountain-head,  but  from  commentaries,  and  ab- 
stracts, and  summaries,  and  indices,  and  other  books 
whose  province  is  to  make  the  attainment  of  know- 
lodge  cheap  and  easy.  Is  it  not  the  same  with  piety  ? 
'lie  great  saints  of  primitive  (nay  of  mediaeval)  times 

and  out  like  stars  in  the  firmament  of' the  Church, 

1 1  the  brighter  for  the  darkness  of  heathenism  or  of 

superstition  which  surrounds  them.    But  the  tendency 


6     On  the  Low  Standard  of  Personal  Religion    [part 

of  modern  times  has  been  to  diffuse  among,  many  the 
piety  which  was  once  concentrated  in  the  few.  The 
public  are  religious  as  a  public,  but  in  individuals  the 
salt  has  lost  its  savour.  Every  body  can  speak  volubly 
upon  controversial  subjects ;  but  where  are  the  men, 
upon  whose  heart  the  Truth,  which  is  at  stake  in  con- 
troversies, is  making  every  day,  by  means  of  prayer 
and  meditation,  a  deeper  imprint? 

If  any  remedy  is  to  be  applied  to  this  state  of 
things,  it  is  plain  that  we  must  first  set  ourselves  to 
inquire  into  its  causes.  And  in  conducting  this  in- 
quiry, it  is  natural  to  turn  our  eyes  in  the  first  place 
to  the  Christian  ministry,  as  at  present  exercised  in 
this  country.  If  the  results  of  the  Gospel  are  not 
what  they  should  be,  it  is  probable  that  there  are  some 
defects  in  the  instrumentality  which  it  condescends  to 
employ.  If  saints  be  not  made  by  the  great  system, 
may  it  not  be  that  the  means  of  working  it  are  out  of 
order  %  Now  we  are  distinctly  told  that  God's  great 
instrumentality  for  the  sanctification  and  salvation  of 
souls  is  the  ministry  of  the  Word  ;  "  He  gave  soTne, 
Apostles ;  and  some,  prophets  ;  and  some,  evangelists ; 
and  some,  pastors  and  teachers  ;  "  (  for  what  end  ?  ) 
^^for  the  perfecting  of  the  saints,  for  the  work  of  the 
ministry,  for  the  edifying  of  the  body  of  Christ:  till 
we  all  come  in  the  unity  of  the  faith,  and  of  the 
knowledge  of  the  Son  of  God,  nnto  a  perfect  man,  unto 
the  measure  of  the  stature  of  the  fulness  of  Christ.'* 
Stripping  this  passage  of  its  beautiful  inspired  phraseo- 
logy, and  dropping  its  reference  to  those  miraculous 
gifts  which  have  now  passed  away,  its  gist  and  upshot 
is  this,  that  the  ministry  of  God's  Word  is  the  great 
appointed  means  for  the  perfecting  of  the  saintly  or 
Christ-like  character  in  man.     Is  there  then  any  flaw 


I.]  now  prevalent,  and  tiie  Causes  of  it,  1 

ill  our  ministry,  which  may  in  some  measure  account 
:  -r  the  low  standard  of  Personal  Religion,  on  which 
wo  have  been  commenting  ?  Wo  fear,  there  is.  Wo 
believe  that  the  Christian  Ministry  having,  by  God's 
ilosign  and  constitution,  two  arms  wlicrewith  to  do  its 
work,  one  of  these  arms  has  become  paralysed  by  in- 
activity. We  believe  that  its  office  ( as  regards  the 
Word  of  God  )  being  twofold,  to  rouse  consciences,  and 
to  guide  them,  we  have  for  a  long  time  past  in  tiie 
Church  (and  probably  it  is  the  same  with  the  sects) 
contented  ourselves  with  rousing,  while  we  have 
tlone  scarcely  any  thing  to  guide  them,  Tlie  one 
I'ject  of  all  our  teaching,  whether  in  formal  sermons  or 
ill  books,  has  been  to  make  impressions,  not  to  give 
them  a  right  direction,  when  made.  The  sermon  is 
tlirown  every  Sunday  into  the  midst  of  the  people, 
very  much  as  the  arrow  which  found  out  King  ^ab 
was  darted  into  the  host  of  Israel,  to  take  its  chance 
amid  the  thousand  arrows  which  on  that  day  were 
winging  their  flight  to  and  fro.  Often,  no  doubt,  the 
grace  and  providence  of  God  directs  the  shaft  to  the 
right  quarter,  causes  it  to  reach  some  sinner's  con- 
science, through  the  joints  of  a  harness  of  insensibility 
and  indifference,  and  to  rankle  there  in  real  and  abiding 
conviction.  But  the  misfortune  is,  that  where  such 
in  eflfect  is  really  produced,  both  minister  and  people 
-oem  to  think,  judging  from  their  conduct,  that  the 
work  in  that  particular  case  has  gone  quite  far  enough. 
Tlie  impression  having  been  made  is  thenceforth  left  to 
itself;  the  working  power  being  there,  it  is  assumed 
tliat  it  will  work,  without  any  further  pains  on  our 
part.  The  minister  prepares  a  similar  stirring  appeal 
for  other  consciences ;  and  the  people  acquiesce  in  a 
religion  of  good  emotions,  as  if  these  emotions  were 


8     0)1  the  Low  Standard  of  Personal  Beligion    [part 

sanctity  itself,  and  not  rather  something  to  begin  and  go 
on  upon, — the  primary  impulse  in  the  life-long  pursuit 
of  sanctity.  And  thus  the  good  impressions  are  allowed 
to  run  to  waste,  and  no  real  ground  is  gained  by  them. 

We  have  said  that  a  low  standard  and  a  wide 
diffusion  seem  to  be  the  law  to  which  both  religion 
and  education  are  subjected  in  the  present  day.  And 
perhaps  there  may  be,  when  we  come  to  look  closely, 
a  similar  defect  in  the  instrumentality  employed  by 
both.  Popular  lectures  are  one^  of  the  great  agencies 
employed  in  the  spread  ot  knowledge.  .  It  is  the 
object  of  these  lectures  to  put  in  a  lively  and  attractive 
form  so  much  of  the  subject  as  is  agreeable  and 
entertaining,  and  to  hide  away  all  the  abstruse  re- 
search, or  the  abstruse  reasoning,  by  which  the  results 
are  arrived  at.  The  lecturer  is  considered  to  have 
gained  his  point  if  he  has  skilfully  dressed  a  rather 
spare  dish  of  knowledge  with  the  garniture  of  amuse- 
ment, and  sent  away  his  audience  pleased  and  tickled 
with  the  conceit  of  having  caught  a  cursory  insight 
into  the  bearings  of  his  subject.  But  as  they  have 
never  grappled  with  the  elements  of  the  study,  the 
new  facts  or  ideas  conveyed  to  them  are  forgotten 
almost  as  soon  as  acquired.  Whatever  advantages 
such  a  system  may  have,  it  is  certain  that  no  scholar 
was  ever  made  by  it.  For  even  now  (notwithstanding 
our  intellectual  advance)  there  is  no  royal  road  to 
knowledge ;  and  those  who  would  really  and  truly 
know  must  still  submit  to  the  condition  of  laborious 
and  gradual  discipline  ;  "line  upon  line,  precept  upon 
precept,  here  a  little,  and  there  a  little." 

But  do  not  the  great  majority  even  of  good  and 
useful  sermons  resemble  in  their  principles  and  objects 
these    popular    lectures'?       Do    not    those    sermons 


1  i  now  prevalent^  and  the  Causes  of  it.  9 

especially  rcseinblo  them,  which  it  is  now  the  fushion 
to  preach  to  the  masses,  and  from  which  wo  expect 
some  great  results,  as  if  they  were  the  one  religious 
agency  of  the  day  ?  If  wo  were  to  define  modern 
sermons  as  "popular  expositions  of  Holy  Scripture, 
witli  a  warm  and  stirring  application  to  men's  con- 
sciences," should  we  go  far  wrong?  They  are  de- 
signed to  make,  and  often  (uu'Jer  Grace)  they  dc 
make,  wholesome  impressions  of  a  spiritual  character, 
and  the  people  who  are  touched  by  them  go  away 
pleased,  thinking  "they  have  got  good."  And  good 
they  have  got,  no  doubt ;  but  then  it  is  good  which  is 
not  followed  up.  If  the  good  should  go  in  some  cases 
as  far  as  real  conversion,  or  change  of  will,  there  seems 
to  be  no  provision  for  edification,  that  is,  for  building 
on  the  foundation  thus  laid.  They  have  been  exhorted 
to  religion  ;  but  they  have  not  been  instructed  in  it 
There  is  in  our  exercise  of  the  ministry  no  systematic 
plan  on  which  people  are  taught,  and  brought  on 
radually  towards  "  the  measure  of  the  stature  of  the 
iiilness  of  Christ."  And  the  results  are  most  mis- 
chievous. Piety  degenerates  into  a  series  of  shallow 
motions,  which  evaporate  in  the  absence  of  stirring 
appeals  to  the  conscience.  Tlic  souls  of  our  people 
become  like  Bethesda's  pool.  Periodically  they  arc 
iiipregnated  with  an  healing  influence;  "an  angel 
:< »(th  down  into  the  pool,  and  tronbleth  the  water." 
lit '.  alas!  the  virtue  of  the  stirring  is  but  momen- 
tary ;  the  dregs  quickly  fall  again  to  the  bottom,  and 
the  water  becomes  dead,  stagnant,  and  unprofitable  as 
before. 

Thus  we  seem  to  have  found  that  one  of  the  causes 
of  the  low  standard  of  Personal  Religion  among  us,  is 
pro1>aV)ly  the  Avant  of  any   definite   direction  of  con- 


10   On  the  Loio  Standard  of  Personal  Religio7i    [pari 

science,  after  it  has  been  once  awakened.  If  we  carry 
our  inquiry  still  further  back,  and  ask  the  reasons  why 
this  part  of  the  ministerial  work  has  been  neglected, 
we  shall  probably  find  that  it  is  owing  to  reactions 
from  a  state  of  things  wrong  in  itself.  Before  the 
Reformation,  the  confessional  existed  as  a  living  power 
in  the  church ;  it  exists  still  in  the  communion  of  the 
Church  of  Rome.  Frightful  as  are  the  evils  and 
abuses  inseparably  connected  with  the  system  of 
regular  compulsory  confession,*  there  was  at  least  this 
advantage  connected  with  it,  that  under  such  a  system 
the  minister  could  not  forget  the  duty  imposed  upon 
him  of  directing  the  awakened  conscience.  Counsel  he 
must  perforce  give,  counsel  practical  and  definite  for 
the  eradication  of  those  sins,  the  avowal  of  which  was 
poured  weekly  into  his  ear.  The  Protestant  clergy- 
man on  the  other  hand,  confined  to  the  pulpit,  is 
thereby,  of  course,  thrown  back  to  a  much  greater 
distance  from  the  minds  of  his  flock.  He  does  not 
know,  and  cannot  know,  except  in  those  very  rare 
cases,  where  a  revelation  of  such  things  is  voluntarily 
tendered  to  him,  what  is  the  nature  of  their  difficulties, 
or  the  quarter  in  which  their  trials  lie.  Hence  arises 
a  temptation  (though  surely  not  a  necessity)  to  do  as 
the  certain  man  in  the  passage  above  referred  to  did, 
to  let  fly  his  word  of  counsel  without  any  definite  aim, 
to  be  general  and  vague  both  in  doctrine  and  exhorta- 
tion. And  it  is  well  if  the  generality  and  vagueness 
do  not  go  so  far  as  to  become  unreality,  if  the  por- 
traitures of  the  believer  and  unbeliever  are  not  so 
overcharged  as  that  no  man  really  resembles  either  of 
them,  and  if  consequently  the  discourse,  being  meant 
for  nobody  in  particular,  does  not  fare  worse  than  the 
death-shaft  of  Ahab,  and   hit   nobody   in   particular. 


I.]  now  prevalent^  and  the  Causes  of  it,  1 1 

But  why,  because  we  rightly  reject  the  odious  system 
of  the  confessional,  are  we  to  abandon  the  attempt  to 
direct  the  human  conscience  from  the  pulpit,  or  from 
the  press  t  Tlie  Apostles  had  no  confessionals.  And 
yet  were  not  tlic  Apostles  ever  making  such  attempts 
as  wo  speak  of  1  What  is  the  nature  of  the  Apostolic 
Epistles  1  Are  they  not  all  addresses  to  believers  in 
Christ,  whose  consciences  had  already  received  the 
primary  impulse  of  true  religion,  with  the  view  of 
guiding  them  in  their  perplexities,  confirming  them  in 
their  convictions,  forewarning  them  against  their  tempt- 
ations, encouraging  them  in  their  troubles,  explaining 
to  them  their  difficulties,  and  generally  building  them 
up  in  their  most  holy  faith  1  And  are  not  the 
Apostolic  Epistles  the  great  model  of  what  stated 
Christian  teaching  in  a  Christian  country  should  be  ? — 
a  process,  be  it  observed,  widely  diflerent  from  the 
evangelizing  of  the  heathen,  and  recognized  as  diflerent 
in  the  great  baptismal  commission  given  by  our  Lord 
in  the  last  verses  of  St.  Matthew's  Gospel,  where  lie 
bids  His  Apostles  first  "  teach "  as  a  preliminary/ to 
baptism, — teach  with  the  view  of  making  disciples, — 
and  subsequently  to  baptism  ^^ teach"  the  converts  so 
made  *'  to  observe  all  things,  whatsoever  He  liad 
commanded."  Those  two  teachings  are  quite  distinct. 
The  object  of  the  one  was  to  arouse  the  conscience  of 
the  heathen  ;  the  object  of  the  other  was  to  direct  the 
conscience  of  the  Christian. 

The  state  of  things  on  which  we  have  been  animad- 
verting is  also  probably  due  in  part  to  a  reaction  from 
the  hard  and  dry  style  of  preaching,  which  was  in 
fashion  some  half-century  ago.  Some  of  us  can 
remember  the  time  when  sermons  were  nothing  more 
than  moral  essays,  setting  forth  some  duty,  or  some 


12   On  the  Low  Standard  of  Personal  Religion    [pari. 

grace  of    the   Christian   character,  with   little   or   no 
reference  to  those  evangelical  motives  from  which  alone 
an  acceptable  obedience  can  spring,  and  no  suggestions 
of  any  value  as  to  the  method  in  which  the  particular 
grace  recommended  might   be  obtained.      You  were 
told   that   humility,  and   self  denial,   and  contentment 
were  excellent  things,  and  worthy  of  being  pursued  by 
all  men ;  but  as  to  the  considerations  which  alone  can 
move  to  the  pursuit,  and  as  to  any  practical  method  of 
maintaining  them  under  difficulties,  you  were  left  in 
ignorance.     But  when  it  pleased  God  to  quicken  the 
dry  bones  of  the  Church  with  new  life,  men  began  to 
see  that  to  divorce  the  moral  code  of  Christ  from  His 
constraining  love,  which  alone  can  enable  us  to  keep  it, 
was  an  unhallowed  act,  upon  which  God's  blessing  can 
never  rest,  and  that  the  exhortations  of  the  Christian 
preacher  should  be  something  warmer,  and  more  genial, 
and  more  persuasive  than  the  moralizings  of  Seneca, 
Since  that  time,  with  the  usual  precipitancy  of  men  to 
extremes,  our  divines  have  chiefly  busied   themselves 
with  doctrine,  and  relinquished  (or  but  feebly  occupied) 
the  ground  of  precept.     The  impression  has  been  that 
people   know   every  thing  about   Christian   duty,  and 
have  no  need  to  be  enlightened  on  that  head.     And  if 
by  Christian  duty  be  meant  simply  the  moral  law  of 
God,  in  its  outward,  literal  aspect,  perhaps  the  impres- 
sion is  more  or  less  correct,  at  least  as   regards    the 
educated  classes.     But  if  by  Christian  duty  be  meant 
sanctity  of  life  and  character,  and  a  growing  conformity 
to  the  image  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  we  must  be  pardoned 
for  expressing  our  conviction  that  our  best  and  most 
respectable  congregations  have  very  little  insight  into 
the  thing  itself,  and  still  less   into  the  method  of  its 
attainment. 


1.^  now  prcvalenty  and  the  Causes  of  it,  13 

Wo  devote  these  pages,  then,  to  giving  some  sug* 
:«>stions    on  the  nature  of  Personal  Kcligioii,  and  tlie 
K'thod  of  cultivating  it, — a  subject  for  the  treatment 
•f  which  by  the  ministers  of  Christ  it  appears  to  us 
I  hat  the  circumsCances  of  the  time  urgently  call.     Wo 
address  our  remarks  more  especially  to  those  who  per- 
ceive   the   hollownicss   of  a   religion   of  merely   good 
impressions,  and  who  feel  that,  if  there  be  vitality  in 
he  Christian   principle  within  them,  they  ought,  as 
years  roll  on,  to  be  making  progress.   The  mere  earnest 
desire  for  a   holier   life,  which  is  often  found  in   such 
>uls,  is  something, — nay,  it  is  much, — it  is  the  fruit  of 
^race,  it  is  the  working  in  the  inner  man  of  the  instinct 
which    Baptism  implanted.    Take  courage,  brother ! 
Earnest  desire  of  holiness  is  holiness  in  the  germ  thereof. 
Soon  shalt  thou  know,  if  only  thou  wilt  follow  on  to 
know,  the  Lord.     But  take  one  short  and  plain  caution 
before  we  start.     Sanctity  is  not  the  work  of  a  day,  but 
of  a  life.     Growth  in  grace  is  subject  to  the  same  law  of 
gradual  and  imperceptible  advance  as  growth  in  nature. 
God's  natural  creation,  Moses  tells  us,  was  built  up  step 
by  step,  out  of  its  first  rudiments.     Who  could  have 
believed  that  the  germs  of  all  the  fair  objects  which  we 
behold   in   nature   were   in   that  void,  and  dark,  and 
formless   earth,  over  whose  waters  the   Spirit  of  God 
spread  His  fostering  wing  ?     And  who  could  have  be- 
lieved that  in  this  heart  of  ours, — such  a  medley  of 
passions,  vanities,  pettiness,  ignorance,  as  now  it  is, — 
there  should  be  the  germs  of  every  grace  which  can 
bloom  in  the  garden  of  God — of  child-like  humility, 
^-^a,  and  of  heroic  self-sacrifice  1     Yet  so  it  is.     Be  but 
le  to  your  convictions.  Do  but  follow  the  instigations 
of  that  Spirit  who  hovered  over  the  waters  of  your 
Baptism.     Follow  Him  in  darkness  and  light,  through 


14  0)1  the  Chief  Characteristic  [pakt 

honor  and  dishonor,  through  evil  report  and  good 
report,  and  in  due  time  the  new  creation  shall  dawn 
within  thee,  and  the  fair  fabric  of  God's  spiritual  king- 
dom shall  be  built  up  step  by  step, — "  righteousness, 
and  peace,  and  joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost." 


CIIAPTEPv  II. 

ON    THE    CHIEF    CIIAEACTEKISTIC    OF    FEESONAL 
EELIGIOK 

"  Grow  in  graced — 2  Pet.  iii.  18. 

In  our  first  Chapter  we  spoke  of  the  low  standard 
of  Personal  Eeligion  now  prevalent,  and  of  the  causes 
of  it.  We  assumed  that  every  one  of  our  hearers 
would  form  a  more  or  less  correct  idea  of  what  was 
meant  by  Personal  Religion,  and  thus  that  there  was 
no  need, — at  all  events  at  that  early  stage  of  the 
argument, — of  any  formal  definition.  The  words  spoke 
for  themselves  sufficiently  to  enable  us  to  follow  the 
line  of  thought,  along  which  our  minds  were  then 
travelling.  We  shall  gain,  as  we  proceed,  a  more 
distinct  and  more  highly  chiselled  notion  in  connexion 
with  them ;  and  such  a  notion,  we  trust,  the  present 
Chapter  will  convey. 

What  is  Personal  Religion?  What  has  been  said 
already  will  have  taught  us  that  it  is  something  more 
than  a  mere  partaking  in  those  sensations  and  in  that 
general  interest  about  religion,  which  are  now  so  widely 
diffiised  among  the  public.  We  have  also  seen  that  it 
is  something  distinct  from  good  impressions  on  the 
tnind  of  the  individual,  which  too  often  terminate  upon 


I.]  of  Personal  Religion,  15 

themselves.  Tliese,  however,  nre  rather  negative  than 
positive  features  of  it;* and,  having  intimated  what  it 
is  not,  we  are  now  inquiring  what  it  is.  One  positive 
characteristic,  then,  of  Personal  Kcligion — pcrliaps  its 
chief  positive  characteristic — is,  spiritual  growth — the 
grgwth  of  the  individual  soul  "  unto  a  perfect  man, 
unto  the  measure  of  the  stature  of  the  fulness  of 
Christ."  Pei^onal  Religion  involves  growth  in  grace  ; 
so  that  where  there  is  growth,  there  is  Personal  Ri'li- 
gion ;  and  whore  there  is  no  growth,  although  there 
may  bo  interest  in  religious  subjects,  and  keenness 
about  controversies,  and  a  perception  of  the  importance 
of  Divine  truth,  and  a  warm  defence  of  orthodoxy, 
there  Personal  Religion  is  unknown. 

Now  to  say  that  Personal  Religion  is  characterized 
by  growth,  is  only  another  form  of  saying  that  the 
man  who  has  it  is  spiritually  alive.  Growth  in  the 
animal  and  vegetable  worlds  is  the  sure  sign,  and  the 
only  sure  sign  of  life.  If  a  branch  does  not  sprout, 
and  put  forth  leaf  and  blossom  in  the  spring,  we  know 
that  it  is  a  dead  branch, — the  sap  which  is  the  life  of 
the  tree  does  not  reach  it,  is  not  circulating  through  it. 
If  an  infant  lives,  it  grows, — increases  in  stature  daily, 
while  its  features  fill  out  gradually  into  that  definite 
shape  which  they  are  to  wear  through  life.  But  we 
need  not  restrict  the  remark  to  infants.  The  bodies 
of  adults  grow  as  really,  though  not  as  sensibly,  as 
those  of  children.  Particles  of  matter  are  continually 
flying  off  from  our  bodies,  and  being  replaced  by 
others ;  so  that,  according  to  a  very  old  and  often- 
quoted  computation,  tbe  whole  mass  of  the  human 
body  undergoes  an  entire  change, — becomes,  in  fact,  a 
new  body, — once  in  every  seven  years.  This  constant 
discharge  of  old  particles,  and  accretion  of  new  ones, 


IG  On  the  Chief  Characteristic  [part 

though  accompanied  with  no  change  of  feature  or 
stature,  is  growth ;  and  it  is  a  sign  of  the  vitality  of 
the  body.  A  dead  body  lacks  the  principle  of  life,  by 
which  alone  nourishment  can  be  taken  in  from  air  and 
food,  and  transmuted  into  the  substance  of  the  human 
frame. 

Now  w^e  know  that  nature  is  every  where  a  parable 
of  grace.  Its  being  so  is  the  basis  of  all  those  beau- 
tiful illustrations  which  are  called  the  parables  of  our 
Lord.  And  in  the  case  before  us,  nature  furnishes  a 
most  important  parable  of  religious  truth.  There  is  no 
organic  life  w^ithout  growth  in  nature  ;  and  there  is  no 
spiritual  life  without  growth  in  grace.  I  say,  no  spiritual 
life, — no  continuous  state  of  life.  Spiritual  impulses 
there  may  be  many.  Impulses,  however,  are  not  life, 
though  they  may  originate  or  restore  life.  Here  again 
we  resort  to  nature  for  an  illustration.  There  is  an 
agency  connected  with  life  called  galvanism.  You  may 
galvanize  a  paralysed  limb,  and  by  galvanism  may 
restore  the  circulation,  and  so  restore  life,  to  it.  But 
the  galvanism  is  not  the  life;  it  only  rouses  the 
dormant  powers  of  life.  Galvanism  is  a  certain  develop- 
ment of  electricity,  the  same  mysterious  agent  which 
in  another  form,  darts  to  and  fro  among  the  clouds  of 
heaven.  The  life  of  the  limb,  on  the  other  hand,  con- 
sists in  its  answering  the  purposes  for  which  it  was 
made,  in  its  habitual  subservience  to  the  will,  in  the 
power  of  contracting  and  relaxing  its  muscles,  when 
the  will  gives  it  notice  to  do  so.  Now  the  professing 
Christian,  who  is  not  spiritually  alive,  is  a  paralysed 
member  of  the  Body  of  Christ.  Impulses  from  a 
heavenly  agent,  the  Holy  Ghost,  are  ever  and  anon  sent 
through  the  medium  of  God's  ordinances  into  the 
Body  of  Christ,  and  impart  a  convulsive,  fitful  motion 


I,]  of  Personal  Religion,  17 

even  to  those  limbs  which  are  paralysed.  It  docs  not, 
however,  follow  that  the  paralysed  limbs  are  restored.. 
Ill  some  cases  they  may  be;  in  some  they  may  not. 
At  all  events,  the  fitful  movement  of  the  limb  is  one 
thing,  its  permanent  vitality  another.  That  glowing 
impression  which  you  carried  away  from  such  a  sermon, 
that  seriousness  which  such  a  warning  or  such  a  bereave- 
ment left  on  your  mind,  may,  after  a  convulsive  move- 
ment of  the  soul — after  saddening  you  for  a  week,  or 
wringing  a  few  tears  from  you — pass  away  for  ever, 
and  leave  you  still  in  a  state  of  spiritual  paralysis. 
Or  it  may  really  rouse  the  powers  of  life  in  your  soul, 
may  succeed  in  enlisting  the  whole  machinery  of  the 
inner  man, — understanding,  aflections,  will,  in  Christ's 
service, — may  act  as  the  first  impulse  in  a  career  of 
holiness.  Do  not  confound  God's  grace,  its  motions,  in- 
fluences, instigations,  inspirations,  with  spiritual  life. 
It  is  on  account  of  this  confusion  of  thought  that  well- 
meaning  persons  often  suppose  all  to  be  right  with  them 
because  they  are  the  subjects  of  so  many  good  impres- 
sions. God's  grace  comes  to  us  from  without,  in  order 
to  quicken  spiritual  life  in  us ;  but  the  life  itself  is  some- 
thing internal.  The  grace  resembles  the  angel  who 
troubled  Bethesda's  pool,  and  for  a  moment  conveyed 
to  it  a  healing  virtue.  The  life  of  the  water  would  have 
•nsisted  in  its  being  changed  permanently  from  a 
liignant  pool  into  a  living  spring,  which  as  a  fact  was 
never  done. 

To  resume,  then,  our  argument  at  the  point  from 
which  we  have  slightly  digressed.  The  question  whether 
any  of  us  has  Personal  Religion,  resolves  itself  into  a 
question  whether  he  has  in  him  a  principle  of  spiritual 
growth ;  and  spiritual  growth  implies  spiritual  life.  Pcr- 
lonal  Religion  therefore   is,  in  fact,  one  and  the  same 


18  On  the  Chief  Characteristic  [part 

thing  with  the  spiritual  life  of  the  individual  soul. — And 
now  let  us  turn,  at  this  early  period  of  the  discussion, 
to  examine  our  own  consciences  upon  the  truth  which  wq 
have  already  gained.  It  must,  I  suppose,  stand  to 
reason  that  nothing  but  a  Personal  Eeligion  will  stand 
Us  in  stead  at  the  last  day.  The  individual  will  then  be 
the  object  of  the  Divine  scrutiny ;  not  the  society  in 
which  he  has  moved,  and  whose  sentiments,  habits,  and 
circumstances  have  perhaps  reflected  upon  him  a  super- 
ficial tinge  of  piety.  Society  is  made  up  of  individuals ; 
and  the  sentiments  of  society  are  ultimately  formed  and 
determined  by  the  sentiments  of  individuals  ;  and  there- 
fore God,  who  searches  all  deep  things,  will  examine  at 
that  day  microscopically  the  little  world  of  the  in- 
dividual's mind.  "  And  when  the  king  came  in  to  see  the 
guests,"  says  our  Saviour,  "  he  saw  there  a  man  which 
had  not  on  a  wedding  garment."  He  saw  there  a  man  ; 
one  man, — singular  ; — not  that  there  will  not  be  found 
at  the  last  day  hundreds  of  thousands  of  souls  in  the  same 
sad  plight  as  this  poor  man ;  but  to  teach  us  forcibly,  by 
the  selection  of  a  single  specimen,  that  no  one  shall  pass 
muster  in  the  crowd,  that  not  only  all,  but  each  must  be 
judged, — that  upon  each  soul  in  that  awful  crisis  the  full 
glare  of  Divine  Omniscience  must  be  turned  in — that  the 
religion  which  alone  vnll  then  abide  must  be  personal, 
deep,  individual.  Is  ours  then  at  present  a  Personal 
Religion  ?  Is  it  a  growing  one  %  Is  there  a  principle 
of  growth  in  it  ?  Does  it  wax  stronger  against  tempt- 
ations, more  stedfast  in  faith,  more  constant  and  more 
fervent  in  prayer,  as  years  roll  on  ?  Are  our  views  of 
God  and  of  Christ  gradually  enlarging  and  clearing,  and 
becoming  more  adequate  %  Are  they  more  humbling  to 
ourselves,  but  at  the  same  time  more  inwardly  satis 
factory  and  consolatory  than  they  usedto  be  %     Are  be* 


I.J  of  Personal  Religion,  19 

Botting  sins  more  resolutely  and  successfully  mortified 
than  they  used  to  bo?  Are  our  souls,  though  sometimes 
stirred  by  spiritual  emotions,  lilto  Bcthesda's  pool?  or 
is  the  Spirit's  agency  in  tiiem  deep,  profound,  eternal — 
"  a  well  of  water  springing  up  into  everlasting  life  ?" 

Header,  seeing  that  on  the  answer  to  these  questions 
our  all  is  suspended,  it  behoves  us  to  be  very  careful  in 
answering  them.  Is  my  religion  a  growing  one  ?  In 
that  word  *' growing"  the  decision  of  the  whole  ques- 
tion is  wrapped  up.  Mark  the  point,  I  pray  you,  and 
keep  to  it.  The  point  is  not  whetlier  I  have  very 
lively  feelings,  very  warm  emotions  in  conneJcion  with 
religion  (those  are  often  constitutional  and  dependent 
on  physical  temperament),  but  whether  I  am  growing  ? 
The  point  is  not>  whether  I  fulfil  certain  duties,  social 
and  religious,  with  commendable  regularity  (a  reflec- 
tion satisfactory  enough  as  far  as  it  goes,  but  not 
bearing  on  the  present  question),  but,  whether  I  am 
growing  ?  And  again  the  point  is  not  (God  forbid 
that  it  should  be !  )  whether  I  am  coming  up  to  the 
standard  of  character  and  conduct,  which  I  have  set 
before  myself?  whether  I  am  satisfied  with  my  own 
life?  whether  1  am  as  yet  near  to  the  mind  and 
image  of  Christ?  whether  I  am  in  sight  of  the  goal 
of  perfection  ? — not  this,  but  simply,  "  Am  I  grow- 
ing ?"  This  one  little  word  is  the  test,  which,  faith- 
fully applied,  shall  reveal  to  us  our  state.  But  how  to 
apply  it?  how  to  be  sure  that  we  are  applying  it 
right  ?  Methinks  I  hear  some  reader  ask  whether  this 
growth  is  consistent  with  frequent  relapses,  with  the 
backslidings  (some  of  them  very  serious)  of  which  he  is 
only  too  conscious  ?  To  which  wo  answer,  with  some 
assurance,  **  Yes,  if  the  faU  have  been  one  of  infirmity  ; 
if  the  will  has  (so  to  say;  picked  itself  up  afterwards, 


20  On  the  Chief  Characteristic  [paet 

and,  though  bruised  and  bleeding,  gone  manfully 
forward,  giving  its  hand  once  again  to  the  Lord  Jesus, 
and  consenting  heartily  (as  before)  to  His  guidance.'* 
There  may  be  health  and  vitality  in  a  constitution 
plagued  with  sickness  ;  and  if  there  be  such  a  vitality, 
it  will  enable  the  constitution  to  throw  the  sickness  off. 
We  do  not  for  a  moment  desire  to  excuse  sin ;  but  at 
the  same  time  God's  people  should  be  instructed,  for 
their  comfort,  that  there  is  a  wonderful  economy  in  His 
Kingdom  of  Grace,  by  which  'He  sometimes  brings 
even  out  of  relapses  (as  in  the  case  of  the.  foil  of  St. 
Peter)  a  burst  of  penitent  love  and  zeal,  which  gives 
the  soul  a  most  powerful  forw^ard  impulse.  The 
Apostle  had  denied  Christ  in  a  moment  of  weakness  ; 
but  he  rises  from  the  denial  at  once,  when  his  Master's 
look  recalled  him  to  himself,  and  goes  out  and  weepr> 
bitterly.  Soon  afterwards  we  discover  that  he  has 
grown  in  grace.  We  see  him  throwing  himself  into 
the  water,  and  wading  ashore  to  meet  the  Lord, — av 
mute  but  very  touching  way  of  saying  that  his  affection 
is  now  more  zealous  than  ever.  As  an  illustration  of 
this  law  in  the  Kingdom  of  Grace,  consider  the  move- 
ment of  the  tide  when  it  is  coming  in.  It  is  movement 
upon  the  whole.  The  water  is  sure  to  cover  that  dry 
beach  in  two  or  three  hours'  time,  and  to  float  that 
stranded  sea-w^eed ;  but  it  is  not  a  movement  without 
relapses.  Each  wave,  I  suppose,  gains  a  little  ground, 
but  each  wave  falls  back  as  soon  as  it  has  plashed  upon 
the  shore.  Even  so  in  the  Christian  life,  there  may  be 
a  forward  movement  on  the  whole,  consistently  with 
many  relapses,  though  this  assertion  requires  to  be 
guarded  by  the  observation  that  the  relapses  must  be 
such  as  proceed  from  infirmity,  and  not  from  malice 
prepense.      Deliberate,  habitual   sin,  cannot  possibly 


I.)  onallUligion,  21 

consist  with  spiritual  growth ;  but  the  shaking  of  a 
man*s  stodfjustiicss  by  a  sudden  tornado  of  temptation 
(which  was  St.  Peter's  case)  may  do  so.  The  great 
question  is  whether,  after  every  such  fall,  the  will 
recovers  its  spring  and  elasticity,  and  malscs  a  fresh 
Ntart  with  new  and  more  fervent  prayer  and  resolve 
Indeed,  the  malving  many  fresh  starts  afler  relapses  of 
infirmity  is  a  hopeful  sign  of  growth.  In  order  to  any 
i^reat  attainment  in  spiritual  life,  there  must  be  an 
indomitable  resolve  to  try  and  try  again,  and  still  to 
begin  anew  amidst  jnuch  failure  and  discouragement. 
On  warm  dewy  mornings  in  the  spring  vegetation 
makes  a  shoot ;  and  when  wo  rise,  and  throw  open  the 
window,  we  mark  that  the  May  is  blossoming  in  the 
liedgerows.  And  those  periods  when  a  man  can  say, 
''  I  lost  myself  sadly  yesterday  in  temper  or  in  talk ; 
))ut  I  know  that  my  crucified  Lord  took  upon  Him 
those  sins  and  answered  for  them,  and  to-day  I  will 
earnestly  strive  against  them  in  the  strength  of  His 
Spirit,  invoked  into  my  soul  by  earnest  prayer :"  these 
are  the  warm  dewy  mornings  of  the  soul,  when  the 
spiritual  life  within  us  sprouts  and  blossoms  apace. 

Again,  it  should  be  remembered,  lest  any  whom  the 
r.ord  hath  not  made  sad  should  be  put  out  of  heart  by 
he  application  of  the  test,  that  all  real  growth  is  very 
slow,  and  its  actual  progress  imperceptible.  The  seed 
sown  on  stony  ground,  which  forthwith  sprang  up, 
because  it  had  no  deepness  of  earth,  proved  a  failure. 
Jonah's  gourd,  which  came  up  in  a  night,  perished  also 
in  a  night.  We  never  see  plants  actually  growing; 
we  only  take  notice  that  they  have  grown.  He  who 
would  form  a  sound  judgment  of  his  spiritual  progress 
must  throw  his  eye  over  long,  not  short,  intervals  of 
lime.     He  must  compare  tho  self  of  this  year  with  the 


22  On  the  Chief  Character latic  [paet 

self  of  last ;  not  the  self  of  to-day  with  the  self  of 
yesterday.  Enough  if  amid  the  divers  and  shifting 
experiences  of  the  world,  and  the  manifold  internal 
self-communings  arising  thereupon,  that  delicate  plant, 
spiritual  life,  has  grappled  its  fibre  a  little  deeper  into 
the  soil  than  it  seemed  to  have  done  in  an  earlier  stage 
of  our  pilgrimage,  now  fairly  past. 

Let  those  characters,  for  whom  they  are  designed, 
take  to  themselves  the  comfort  of  these  considerations. 
But  let  not  the  indolent  and  formal  derive  from  them 
the  slightest  encouragement.  Again  we  say,  that  the 
one  sign  of  vital  Personal  Eeligion  is  grow'th.  There 
is  no  growth  in  a  life  of  spiritual  routine,  in  a 
mechanical  performance  of  duties,  however  important, 
or  a  mechanical  attendance  upon  ordinances,  however 
sacred.  There  is  no  growth  without  zeal  and  fervor^ 
and  that  sort  of  enthusiastic  interest  in  religion,  with 
which  a  man  must  take  up  any  thing  if  he  wishes  to 
succeed  in  it.  There  is  no  growth  in  the  deliberato 
adoption  of  a  low  standard,  in  the  attempt  to  keep 
back  a  moiety  of  the  heart  from  Christ,  in  consenting 
to  go  with  God  thus  far  only,  and  no  further.  There 
is  no  growth  in  contenting  ourselves  with  respectability, 
and  declining  the  pursuit  of  holiness.  There  is  no 
growth  without  fervent  prayer,  "in  spirit  and  in 
truth."  And,  finally,  there  is  no  growth  (whatever  be 
the  hopes  with  which  we  ma}^  be  flattering  ourselves) 
without  continual  and  sincere  effort. 

But  it  is  now  time  to  conclude  this  chapter.  And 
we  will  do  so  by  remarking  that  if  an  examination  of 
conscience  should  show  that  we  are  not  growing  in 
grace,  there  is  but  one  alternative,  which  is  that  we  are 
falling  back.  An  awful  truth ;  but  one  as  infallibly 
certain  as  any  other  phenomenon  of  our  moral  state. 


I .  ]  of  Personal  Religion, 

Neither  in  mind  nor  body  does  man  ever  "continue  in 
one  stay."  His  body,  as  wo  have  seen,  is  constantly 
throwing  off  old  particles  of  matter,  and  appropriating 
new  ones.  Every  breath  ho  breathes,  every  exertion  of 
his  muscles  and  limbs,  every  particle  of  food  ho 
swallows,  makes  some  minute  change  in  the  bodily 
framework,  so  that  it  is  never  entirely  the  same.  Of 
each  individual  among  us  it  may  be  said  with  truth  at 
any  given  moment,  that  he  is  either  rising  to,  or  de- 
clining from,  the  prime  of  life  and  the  maturity  of  his 
physical  powers.  And  the  mind  no  less  than  the  body 
is  in  a  continual  flux.  It  too  has  its  moral  element, 
the  society  in  which  it  lives, — it  too  has  its  nourish- 
ment, which  it  is  constantly  imbibing, — the  influences 
of  the  world  and  the  lower  nature,  or  those  of  the 
Spirit  of  God.  One  or  other  of  these  influences  is 
always  imperceptibly  passing  into  the  mind  and 
effecting  a  gradual  change.  And  the  awful  thought  is, 
that  if  the  change  is  not  for  the  better,  it  must  be  for 
the  worse ;  if  the  mind  is  not  appropriating  the  higher, 
it  must  be  appropriating  the  lower  influences  ;  if  there  ' 
is  no  growth  in  grace,  there  must  be  a  growth  in 
worldliness  aijd  sin.  Strictly  speaking,  nothing  is 
morally  indifllerent ;  every  moral  action  leaves  its 
npress  upon  moral  character.  Our  fireside  conver- 
sations, our  thoughts  as  we  pass  along  the  streets 
to  our  daily  work,  our  spirit  in  the  transaction  of 
business,  all  have  some  amount,  small  though  it  be,  of 
moral  value ;  all  are  tending  more  or  less  remotely  to 
form  the  character  ;  amid  all,  and  through  all,  we  arc 
either  making  spiritual  progress  or  falling  back  from 
the  mark.  With  what  solemnity  do  these  thoughts 
Invest  even  the  most  trifling  incidents  of  life !  It  is 
impossible  to  pass  through    them    and  come  out  the 


C4  Of  the  entire  dependence  [part 

same ; — we  are  changed  either  for  the  better  or  for  the 
worse.  We  will  look  to  it,  then,  that  in  future  at 
^east  it  shall  be  for  the  better.  If  it  have  been  hithert( 
ior  the  worse,  we  will  this  very  hour  embrace  thf.t 
already  purchased  pardon,  which  obliterates  in  an 
instant  the  guilt  of  a  whole  past  career  of  sin,  and 
that  grace,  proffered  by  Christ  no  less  gratuitously, 
which  renews  the  will  unto  newness  of  life.  And  to- 
morrow we  will,  in  the  strength  of  that  grace,  make  a 
new  beginning,  taking  up  this  anthem  into  our  mouths : 
"  All  my  fresh  springs  shall  be  in  Thee." 


CHAPTER  III. 

OF  THE  ENTIEE  DEPENDENCE  OF  SANCTITY  ON  CllIllST, 
AND  OF  THE  RELATION  WHICH  THE  MEANS  OF 
GRACE    HOLD    TO    HIM. 

*^  Abide  in  3 fe,  and  I  in  you.  As  the  branch  cannot  bear  fruit 
of  itself  except  it  abide  in  the  vine ;  no  more  can  i/e,  except 
ye  abide  in  Me, 

"  I  am  the  vine,  ye  are  the  branches  :  he  that  abideth  in  Me, 
and  I  in  him,  the  same  bringeth  forth  much,  fruit-:  for  with- 
out Me  ye  can  do  nothing^ — St.  John  xv.  4,  5. 

The  subject  of  this  treatise  is  Personal  Religion,  or  in 
other  words,  that  "  holiness,  without  which  no  man 
shall  see  the  Lord."  It  is  evident  that  we  shall  be 
liable  to  misapprehend  the  subject  fundamentally,  unless 
we  have  at  the  outset  a  clear  notion  of  the  nature  of 
Christian  holiness.  It  is  to  give  the  reader  this  clear 
notion  that  the  present  chapter  will  be  devoted. 

In  the  passage  which  f  lands  at  the  head  of  it,  there 


r.]  of  S.f.r;:^.,  . 

is  a  sliglit  inaccuracy  ut  tr.uisiauon.  wnicii  rc(|uirc.s  lo 
be  set  riglit  before  the  force  of  Our  Lord's  words  can  bo 
thoroughly  appreciated.  "  Without  Me  ye  can  do  no- 
t^nng,"  should  ratlier  be  rendered,  **Apart  from  Me," 

^parato  from  Me,"  "in  a  state  of  indepcixdcnce  on 
Mqj  ye  can  do  nothing."  "  Apart  from  Mo,"  by  no 
means  conveys  the  same  idea  as  "  Without  Mo."  The 
latter  would  imply  merely  that  unless  Christ  concurred 
"  ith  His  people  in  their  cflbrts,  they  could  do  nothing. 

Vpart  from  Me,"  goes  beyond  this.  It  implies  that 
lie  is  the  alone  originating  source  of  all  sanctity  in 
them.     "Without"  the  concurrence  and  assistance  of  a 

ong  person,  a  weak  one  cannot  lift  a  heavy  weight ; 
Dut  the  dependence  of  the  weak  person  on  the  strong 
in  order  to  lift  the  weight,  is  not  the  dependence  which 
the  word  here  employed  indicates.  "  Apart  from  "  the 
sold  (or  principle  of  life)  the  body  is  motionless,  and 

mot  stir  a  finger.  This  is  the  sort  of  dependence 
indicated  in  the  passage  before  us.  Christ  is  to  the 
Christian  the  alone  source  of  sanctification  or  spiritual 
life,  just  as  the  soul  is  to  the  body  the  alone  source  of 
natural  life. 

I  do  not  know  that  any  other  prefatory  observation 
is  needed,  except  that  "  the  fruit "  mentioned  in  this 
passage  generically  is  specifically,  and  in  detail,  those 
fruits  of  the  Spirit  which  are  enumerated  by  St.  Paul 
in  Gal.  v.,  "  Love,  joy,  peace,  longsufTering,  gentleness, 
goodness,  faith,  meekness,  temperance."  The  fruit 
consists  in  certain  holy  tempers  and  affections  of 
heart,  the  possession  of  which  will  uniformly  ensure 
right  conduct,  but  which  are  much  more  easily  seen  to 
be  absolutely  dependent  upon  Christ's  working  than 
right  conduct  itself  is.     If  a  man  be  commanded  by 

•d  to  do  any  action  whatsoever,  he  can  string  up  his 
2 


26  Of  the  entire  dependence  [paet 

will  to  do  it.  But  when  certain  sentiments  and  dispo- 
sitions are  required  of  him,  which  involve  a  thorough 
change  of  the  heart's  natural  propensities,  that  is 
another  matter.  The  affections  are  far  less  under  the 
will's  control  than  the  actions  are. — That  these  gracious 
sentiments  and  dispositions  are  called  by  the  Apostle, 
fruits  of  the  Spirit,  and  by  His  Divine  Master,  fruit 
proceeding  from  himself,  the  true  Vine,  need  not  cause 
any  difficulty.  In  Christ  dwelleth  all  the  fulness  of  the 
Godhead  bodily.  He  is  the  smitten  Rock  of  the 
wilderness,  through  whom  alone  the  living'waters  force 
their  passage  to  polluted  man.  His  glorified  humanity 
is  the  appointed  receptacle  of  Grace,  from  which  Gracf^ 
emanates  into  all  the  moral  universe.  Hence  the  Spirit 
is  called  the  Spirit  of  God's  Son. 

The  great  subject  brought  before  us  by  the  passage 
is,  that  THE  sanctification  of  the  Christian,  like 
HIS  justification,  is  entirely  dependent  upon  our 
Lord. 

As  regards  our  Justification,  this  is  clearly  seen  (at 
least  in  the  Reformed  Churches)  and  generally  admitted. 
That  Christ  alone  can  atone  for  sin;  that  His  Blood 
and  nothing  else  can  procure  the  pardon  of  it ;  that  on 
the  ground  of  His  merit  exclusively  we  can  find  accept- 
ance with  God,  reinstatement  in  his  favour,  and  admis- 
sion to  His  Presence ;  that  "  all  our  righteousnesses  are 
as  filthy  rags,"  and  that  therefore  we  must  look  out  of 
ourselves  for  a  righteousness  which  can  stand  the 
scrutiny  of  God's  judgment,  and  that  such  a  righteous 
ness,  white  as  the  driven  snow,  is  to  be  found  in  Christ 
only, — all  this,  whatever  reception  such  a  doctrine 
might  have  met  with  half  a  century  ago,  is  now  so 
thoroughly  established,  and  has  gained  such  a  footing  Id 


1.]  of  S"„rr  ,ist,  27 

tlio.  miiitls  ot'  religious  poopio,  liiat  to  prove  it  iVmiu 
Holy  Scripture  to  pcraons  of  ordinary  religious  a<- 
Iremcnts  would  be  altogether  superfluous. 
But  it  is  thought  that,  unlike  Justification,  (which  ia 
s.  »incthing  that  passes  on  the  sinner  externally  to  him, 
a  sentence  of  acquittal  pronounced  on  him  by  God,  in 
consideration  of  Our  Lord's  merits,)  Sanctification  is  a 
process  within  us  (which  no  doubt  is  true);  and  hence 
it  is  erroneously  inferred  that  it  is  carried  on  much 
more  independently  of  Christ  than  Justification  is; 
that  human  will,  efibrt,  and  exertion  contribute  very 
mainly  to  it,  and  that  Christ  is  not  the  all  in  all  of  it, 
t  "  our  strength  "  in  the  same  way  and  to  the  same 
extent  as  He  is  "our  righteousness."  And  hence  a 
false  notion  of  holiness  springs  up  in  many  minds,  and 
finds  such  a  lodgment  that  it  is  very  dlfticult  to  dis- 
possess it.  Holiness  is  supposed  to  be  an  achievement 
mastered  at  length — much  as  a  lesson  is  mastered — by 
a  variety  of  exercises,  prayers,  fastings,  meditations, 
almsdeeds,  self-discipline.  Sacraments ;  and  when  mas- 
red,  a  sort  of  permanent  acquisition,  which  goes  on 
increasing  as  the  stock  of  these  spiritual  exercises  ac- 
cumulates. It  is  not  regarded  in  its  true  light  as  a 
momentary  receiving  out  of  Christ's  fulness  grace  for 
grace,  as  the  result  of  His  inworking  in  a  heart,  which 
finds  the  task  of  self-renewal  hopeless,  and  makes  itself 
over  to  Him,  to  be  moulded  by  His  plastic  hands,  re- 
signing, of  course,  its  will  to  Him  in  all  things,  without 
which  resignation  such  a  surrender  would  be  a  horrible 
hypocrisy. 

Now  let  us  take  up  the  illustrations  of  this  truth ; 
and  first  His  own  illustration,  the  wisest,  profoundest, 
and  most  beautiful  of  all.  "As  the  branch  cannot 
bear  fruit  of  itself,  except  it  abide  in  the  vine ;  no  more 


28  Of  the  entire  dependence  [part 

can  ye,  except  yc  abide  in  Me ;"  "  Apart  from  Me  ye 
can  do  nothing."  The  circulating  sap,  which  is  the  life 
of  the  tree,  is  indeed  in  the  vine-branch,  so  long  as  it  holds 
on  the  stem ;  but  in  no  sense  whatever  is  it  from  the 
vine-branch.  Cut  off  the  branch  from  the  stem,  and  it 
ceases  instantaneously  to  live,  for  it  has  no  independent 
life.  Even  so  the  fruits  of  the  Spirit,  while  of  course 
our  hearts  are  the  sphere  of  their  manifestation,  are  in 
no  sense  fi-om  our  hearts ;  they  are  not  the  result  of 
the  energizing  of  our  own  will ;  they  are  not  a  right- 
eousness of  our  own,  built  up  by  a  series  of* endeavours, 
or  a  laborious  process  of  self-discipline,  but  a  righteous- 
ness outflowing  continually  from  the  fulness  of  Grace 
wnich  is  in  Christ. 

Another  illustration  may  perhaps  help  to  impress 
the  truth.  When  we  walk  abroad  on  a  beautiful  day, 
and  survey  a  landscape  lit  up  by  the  beams  of  a  sum- 
mer sun,  our  eye  catches  a  variety  of  colours  lying  on 
the  surface  of  this  landscape, — there  is  the  yellow  of 
the  golden  grain,  the  green  of  the  pasture-land,  the 
dark  brown  of  those  thick-planted  copses,  the  silver 
gleam  of  the  stream  which  winds  through  them,  the 
faint  blue  of  distant  hills  seen  in  perspective,  the  more 
intense  blue  of  the  sky,  the  purple  tinge  of  yonder 
sheet  of  water ;  but  none  of  these  colours  reside  in  the 
landscape,  they  are  not  the  properties  of  the  material 
objects  on  which  they  rest.  All  colours  are  wrapped 
up  in  the  sunlight,  which,  as  is  well  known,  may  be 
seen  resolved  into  its  elementary  colours  in  the  prism 
or  the  rainbow.  Apart  from  the  sunlight  no  object 
^as  any  colour ;  as  is  shown  by  the  fact  that,  as  soon  as 
Light  is  withdrawn  from  the  landscape,  the  colours 
iade  from  the  robe  of  Nature.  The  diffeience  of  colour 
hi  different  objects,  v/hile  the  sun  is  shining,  is  produced 


i]  of  Sanctity  on  ChrisL  21> 

l«y  some  subtle  differences  of  texture  or  superficies, 
which  makes  each  object  absorb  certain  rays,  and 
'•'^flcct  certain  other  rays,  in  different  proportions. 
^'•w  Christ  is  the  Sun  of  Righteousness,  in  Whom 
dwelleth  all  the  fulness  of  the  Godhead  bodily, — the 
fair  colour  of  every  grace  and  Christian  virtue.  When 
Christ  is  shining  upon  the  heart,  then  these  virtues 
:  ro   manifested  there   by  one  Christian   grace   of  one 

scription,  by  another  of  another,  according  to  their 
different  receptivity  and  natural  temperament,  just  as, 
when  the  sun  is  shining,  colours   are  thrown  upon  a 

idscape,  and  reflected  by  the  different  objects  in  dif- 
kTcnt  proportions.  But  as  no  part  of  the  landscaj^e 
has  any  colour  in  the  absence  of  the  sun,  nor  can 
acquire  any  independently  of  the  sun,  so  Christians 
have  no  grace  except  from  Christ,  nor  hold  any  virtue 
independently  of  Ilim. 

Let  it  be  clearly  understood,  then,  that  the  great 

cret  of  bringing  forth  much  fruit,  or,  in  other  words, 
of  all  advance  in  grace  and  holiness,  is  according  to 
the  profound  teaching  of  Our  Lord  Himself,  a  constant 
keeping  open  (and  if  possible,  enlarging)  the  avenues 
of  the  soul  towards  Ilim.  If  a  vine-branch  is  to  sprout 
and  throw  out  new  suckers  and  shoots,  the  tube  by 
which  it  communicates  with  the  stock  of  the  tree  must 
adhere  tightly  to  the  stem,  and  be  well  open  for  the 
passage  of  the  sap.  Jf  you  desire  to  see  the  colours  of 
furniture  in  this  room,  whose  shutters  are  closed,  throw 
open  the  shutters,  and  admit  the  full  flood  of  sunlight. 
And  if  you  desire  to  see  the  dead  heart  put  forth  the 
energies  of  spiritual  life,  and  the  dark  heart  illumined 
by  the  fair  colours  of  spiritual  grace,  throw  wide  open 
the  passage  of  communication  between  Christ  and  it^ 
and  allow  the   Life  which  is   in  Ilim,  and  the  Light 


30  Of  the  entire  dei^endence  [pari 

which  is  ill  Him,  to  circulate  freely  through  it. — But 
how  to  do  this  ?  in  other  words,  how  to  fulfil  His  own 
precept,  "  Abide  in  Me,  and  I  in  you  T  Ah !  vitally 
important  question, — question  upon  which  the  whole 
of  our  sanctification  (and  thus  the  whole  of  our  sal- 
vation) is  suspended!  Let  us  address  ourselves  to 
answer  it,  with  the  earnest  prayer  that  God  would 
guide  us  into  all  truth. 

Observe  that  our  Lord  prescribes  mutual  indwell- 
ing, as  the  secret  of  spiritual  fertility.  Take  heed  that 
ye  "abide  in  Me,  and  I  in  you."  Here  is. not  one  idea 
only,  but  two ;  the  dwelling  of  the  Christian  in  Christ, 
as  the  body  dwells  in  an  atmosphere,  and  the  dwell- 
ing of  Christ  in  the  Christian,  as  the  soul  dwells  in 
the  body. 

I.  Take  lieed,  first,  that  "  ye  abide  in  Me."  This  is 
done  by  faith.  As  we  first  consciously  entered  into 
fellowship  with  Christ  by  faith  (I  say  consciously 
entered  into  fellowship  with  him,  for  when  we  were 
baptised  as  infants,  we  entered  unconsciously  into  His 
fellowship),  so  there  is  no  other  way  to  abide  in  Him, 
than  by  repeated  exercises  of  the  same  faith.  The 
faith  which  enables  the  soul  to  abide  in  Christ  is 
nothing  else  than  an  assured  trust  and  confidence  on 
our  part,  that,  as  He  has  already  wrought  out  for  us 
our  acceptance  with  God,  so  He  will  work  in  us  every 
gracious  disposition  (be  it  repentance,  or  faith  itself, 
or  humility,  or  hope,  or  love)  which  is  necessary  to 
qualify  us  for  glory.  It  is  not  enough  to  supplicate 
these  graces ;  we  must  lean  upon  Him  for  them,  and 
fix  the  eye  of  expectation  upon  the  promise  of  Plis  new 
Covenant ;  "  I  will  put  My  laws  into  their  mind,  and 
write_^them  in  their  hearts:"  being  well  assured  that 
He  will  fulfil  to  us  the  terms  thereof.     There  is  a  pro- 


i]  of  Sanelity  on  Christ,  31 

lisOy  I  say,  that  IIo  vrill  fulfil  in  uft  all  tho  work  of 
viiictificatioii ;   and  it   is   well   that  it  is  so,  by  way 

f  making  assurance  doubly  sure,  and  giving  to  tho 
doubtful  heart  a  stronger  consolation.  But  even  were 
•hero  no  promise,  could  it  be  a  question  as  to  wliethcr 

lo  would  form  in  us  those  tempers  and  frames  of  mind, 
\shich  IIo  Himself  requires  of  us  1  Do  wo  seriously 
believe  that  He  loved  us  so  intensely  as  to  abdicate  His 
throne  in  Heaven  for  our  sakes,  to  empty  Himself  of 
all  the  glory  which  He  had  with  tlve  Father  before  tho 
world  was,  to  confine  Himself  within  the  limits  of  man's 
feeble  faculties,  and  feebler  body,  to  expose  Himself  to 
shame,  and  spitting,  and  obloquy,  and  a  death  most 
oruel  and  ignominious*?  If  we  do  not  believe  as  much 
as  this,  we  are  clearly  no  Christians.  And  if  we  do 
believe  thus  much,  is  it  conceivable  that  He  who  has 
gone  to  the  utmost  verge  of  self-sacrifice  in  ransoming 
our  souls,  should  be  wanting  to  us  in  what  will  cost 
Him  no  sacrifice,  but  yet  is  necessary  to  complete  our 
salvation  ?  If  the  soul  has  the  least  scintillation  of  a 
desire  to  be  holy ;  much  more,  if  it  is  bent  on  being 
holy,  as  far  as  its  power  goes ;  still  more  if  it  is  striving 
and  struggling  to  be  holy,  and  beating  against  the  cage 
of  its  corruptions  in  a  great  longing  for  spiritual  free- 
dom, as  a  poor  imprisoned  bird  beats,  who  sees  outside 
the  bright  sun  and  the  green  trees,  and  other  birds 
flitting  to  and  fro  in  the  blue  ether, — is  it  conceivable 
tliat  the  Incarnate  Love,  tho  Love  which  bled,  and 
agonized,  and  poured  itself  out  in  death  for  the  objects 
<  11  which  it  had  fastened,  should  not  meet  that  desire, 
that  longing,  that  striving,  and  visit  the  soul  with 
power?  As  without  holiness  no  man  shall  (or  c;in) 
see  the  Lord,  must  not  Christ  be  much  more  earnestly 
anxious  to  make  us  holy,  than  we  can  be  to  be  made 


32  Of  the  entire  dependence  [part 

sol  If  we  do  not  believe  in  this  earnest  anxiety 
of  His,  do  we  believe  in  His  love  at  all  *?  Have  we 
ever  really  apprehended  it ;  or  has  it  been  merely  a  tale 
recited  to  our  ears,  which  we  do  not  care  indeed  to  con- 
tradict, but  which  has  never  at  all  taken  hold  of,  or 
touched,  our  hcftrts  1 

Ah !  what  if  these  struggles  to  be  holy  should  them- 
selves be  in  a  certain  sense  a  token  of  unbelief?  What  if 
the  poor  bird  imprisoned  in  the  cage  should  be  thinking 
that,  if  it  is  ever  to  gain  its  liberty,  it  must  be  by  its 
own  exertions,  and  by  vigorous  and  frequent  strokes  of 
its  winojs  af]fainst  the  bars  %  If  it  did  so,  it  would  ere 
long  fall  back  breathless  and  exhausted,  fliint  and  sore, 
and  despairing.  And  the  soul  will  have  a  similar  ex- 
perience, which  thinks  that  Christ  has  indeed  won  par- 
don and  acceptance  for  her,  but  that  Sanctification  she 
must  win  for  herself,  and  under  this  delusion  beats 
herself  sore  in  vain  efforts  to  correct  the  propensities 
of  a  heart  which  the  Word  of  God  pronounces  to  be 
"desperately"  wicked.  That  heart, — you  can  make 
nothing  of  it  yourself; — leave  it  to  Christ,  in  quiet 
dependence  upon  His  grace.  Suffer  Him  to  open  the 
prison-doors  for  you,  and  then  you  shall  fly  out  and 
hide  yourself  in  your  Lord's  Bosom,  and  there  find  rest. 
Yield  up  the  soul  to  Him,  and  place  it  in  His  hands ; 
and  you  shall  at  once  begin  to  have  the  delightful  ex- 
perience of  His  power  in  sanctifying. 

"  Yield  up  the  soul,"  we  say.  And  in  saying  so, 
we  of  course  imply  (though  it  needs  to  be  expressed, 
as  well  as  implied)  that  you  yield  up  your  will  with- 
out reserve.  There  is  no  such  thing  as  yielding  up  the 
soul,  without  yielding  up  the  will ;  for  the  will  is  the 
chief  power  of  the  soul.  Christ  Himself  cannot  sanc- 
tify a  moral  agent,  whose  will  holds  persistently  to  his 


I  I  of  Sanctity  on  Christ.  38 

.ruptions.  Even  a  man  cannot  liberate  tt  bird  from 
its  cage,  which  likes  to  stay  there,  refuses  to  move  when 
the  dour  Is  opened,  and  flies  back  when  it  is  taken  out 
God  has  given  us  a  free  will,  the  exercise  of  which 
cannot  indeed  change  our  hetirts  or  renew  our  moral 
nature,  but  which  can  say  "  Nay  "  to  the  world,  to  the 
flesh,  and  the  devil;  which  shows  that  it  can  say 
"  Nay,"  by  saying  it  sometimes,  when  worldly  interests 
are  concerned.  And  this  "  Nay  "  it  must  say,  if  the 
soul  is  to  be  sanctified  and  bring  forth  fruit. 

II.  But  our  blessed  Lord  said  not  only  "Abide 
in  Me,"  but  also  "  Let  Mo,  or  take  heed  that  I,  abide 
in  you."  lie  thus  teaches  us  that  Ordinance,  as  well 
as  Faith,  forms  part  of  the  system  of  His  religion,  and 
especially  that  Ordfnance,  in  which  indeed  all  others  are 
included,  by  which  He  communicates  Himself  to  the 
faithful  soul.  In  order  to  the  fruitfulncss  of  the  vine- 
branch,  two  conditions  have  to  be  fulfilled ;  the  first 
that  the  branch  shall  adliero  closely  to  the  stem,  and 
offer  an  open  tube  for  the  passage  of  the  sap, — this  is 
the  abiding  of  the  branch  in  the  vine ;  the  second,  that 
the  sap  shall  rise  ever  and  anon  from  the  vine-stock, 
and  pass  into  the  branch, — this  is  the  abiding  of  the 
vine   in  the  branch.      Similarly  in   the  case  of  the 

ristian.  The  first  condition  of  his  spiritual  fruitful- 
ncss is  that  he  shall  adhere  by  a  close  trust  to  Christ, 
and  keep  open  towards  Him  the  avenues  of  faith, 
'hope,  and  expectation.  This  is,  "  Abide  in  Me."  The 
second  is,  that  Christ  shall  continually  send  up  into  his 
heart  a  current  of  holy  inspirations,  new  loves,  good 
impulses,  devout  hopes.  Or,  more  accurately,  that  He 
shall  communicate  Himself  to  the  soul  by  the  continual 
influx  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  Tliis  is,  "  And  I  in  you.** 
And  this  communication  of  Himself  is  made  specially 


34  Of  the  entire  dependence  [pari 

(where  that  Sacrament  may  be.  had)  in  the  Supper  of 
the  Lord  ;  He  comes  at  those  seasons  into  the  opened 
avenue  of  the  faithful  communicant's  soul,  comes  to 
cement  by  His  own  passage  into  the  inner  man  the 
union  in  which  our  faith  cleaves  to  II  im ;  and  the 
result  is  "  the  strengthening  and  refreshing  of  our 
souls  by  the  Body  and  Blood  of  Christ,  as  our  bodies 
are  by  the  Bread  and  Wine." 

Thus  a  devout  and  frequent  use  of  the  Sacrament 
appointed  for  spiritual  growth,  and  as  the  instrument  of 
Christ's  indwelling,  is,  though  not  literally  expressed  in 
this  passage,  clearly  implied.  And  it  should  be  observed 
that  the  Divine  allegory  quite  precludes  the  supposition 
that  without  faith  in  the  recipient  the  Holy  Supper 
will  avail  any  thing  for  sanctification  and  growth  in 
grace.  The  vine-stock  may  push  upwards  its  sap  in 
strong  current,  at  the  first  outburst  of  the  genial 
spring;  but  what  will  that  avail  the  branch,  which 
does  not  hold  closely  to  the  tree,  which  is  half  broken 
off  from  the  stem,  and  the  fracture  filled  up  with  dust, 
or  corroded  by  insects  ?  Christ  may  offer  Himself  to 
us  in  the  Lord's  Supper  ;  but,  if  the  soul  cleaves  not  to 
Him,  if  the  avenues  of  the  heart  are  not  open  towards 
Him,  how  can  He  enter  ? 

Finally  ;  it  is  particularly  important  in  speaking  of 
Christ's  communication  with  us  by  Ordinances,  to 
recognize  the  exact  position  which  the  Ordinance  holds, 
so  as  not  to  estimate  it  unduly,  or  erect  it  into  the 
place  which  is  due  only  to  the  Lord  of  the  Ordinance. 
Be  it  clearly  understood,  then,  that  no  Ordinance  (not 
even  Holy  Communion  itself)  is  otherwise  valuable 
than  as  a  channel  or  vehicle  of  communication  with 
tlie  Church's  Lord.  They  are  all  (even  the  highest 
and  holiest)  so  many  tubes,  through  which  the  sap  of 


i]  of  Sanctity  on  Christ,  35 

;  :,i> .'  rises  from  tho vine-stock  into  the  branches.     I    r 
whih   i.;ison,  ill  advocating  tho  devout  use  of  Ordi 
1  inccs,  Avc  do   not   in   the  slightest  degree  derogate 
iVom  our  Lord's  honour,  nor  direct  tho  eye  of  the  mind 
to  another  point  of  sight  than  Him.     It  is  not  to  bo 
iiniigined  for  a  moment  that  a  man  by  prayers,  and 
fsistings,  and  meditations,  and  Sacraments,  lays  in  a 
stock  of  holiness,   which   becomes  to   him   so   much 
realized   spiritual  gain,  upon  which  he  may  draw  in 
ase  a  spiritual  bankruptcy  should  threaten  him  at  the 
n our  of  death   or   the   day  of  judgment.     Away  with 
such   ideas,  which  are  a  modern  form  of  Pharisaism  I 
These  Ordinances  are  precious  and  blessed  for  no  other 
reason  than  that  they  bring   us   into  relation,  by  His 
own  institution  of  them,  with  the  great  Head  of  tho 
Church;    and  except  we  stand  in  such  relation,  and 
Accpt  such  relation  is  from  time  to  time  renewed,  and 
vmeuted,  and  strengthened,  there  is  no  life  in  us.     Of 
ith  itself  the  same  remark  might  be  made.     There 
-  no  intrinsic  merit  in  trusting  to  Christ,  just  as  there 
s  no  intrinsic  merit  in  praying  and  communicating; 
Imt  fiiith  is  the  ordained  inward  means,  as  Prayers  and 
Sacraments  are  the  ordained  outward  means,  of  com- 
munication with  the  One  Source  of  Life  and  Sanctity. 

An  illustration  may  sometimes  serve  a  good  turn  in 
keeping  truth  distinctly  before  the  mind.  I  therefore 
offer  the  following  illustration  of  the  mutual  relations 
between  Christ,  our  faith,  and  Christian  Ordinances. 
A  woman,  like  the  Samaritan  in  the  Gospel,  comes 
with  a  pitcher  to  draw  water  at  a  well.  Her  object  is 
to  reach  and  procure  the  water  ;  and  she  does  this  by 
letting  down  the  pitcher  into  the  well,  and  drawing  it 
up  again.  It  is  at  once  understood  that  the  pitcher  is 
not  the  same  thing  as  the  muscular  action,  by  which  it 


86  Of  the  entire  dependence  of  Sanctity  on  Christ,  [pari 

is  let  down  and  drawn  up.  Both  must  contribute  to 
the  result;  for  without  either  pitcher  or  muscular 
action  no  water  could  be  obtained  ;  but  the  pitcher  is 
external  to  the  person,  the  muscular  action  a  move- 
ment of  the  person.  It  is  also  clearly  seen  that  neither 
pitcher  nor  muscular  action  are  water, — that  the  arm 
might  put  itself  forth  for  ever,  and  the  pitcher  be  let 
down  continually,  but  that  if  it  were  a  dry  pit  into 
which  the  vessel  were  lowered,  no  refreshment  could  be 
had  thereb3^  The  figure  is  easy  o-f  application.  Christ 
is  the  Well  of  the  Water  of  Life,  from  Whom  alone  can 
be  drawn  those  streams  of  Grace,  which  refresh,  and 
quicken,  and  fertilize  the  soul.  It  is  by  faith  that  the 
soul  reaches  out  after  this  living  water ;  faith  is  the 
soul's  muscular  action,  by  which  the  water  is  drawn  up 
and  brought  into  use.  But  faith  needs  as  an  implement 
those  means  which  Christ  has  appointed,  and  parti- 
cularly the  mean  of  means,  which  He  instituted  for  the 
conveyance  of  Himself  to  faithful  souls.  These  means 
are  the  pitcher,  iii  which  the  water  is  conveyed.  Faith 
is  not  a  Christ ;  neither  are  Sacraments  a  Christ ;  but 
faith  (under  all  circumstances)  and  Sacraments,  where 
they  may  be  had,  are  necessary  to  the  appropriation 
and  enjoyment  of  Christ. 

Oh  for  more  faith,  more  of  the  principle  which 
cleaves  closely  in  trust,  and  affiance,  and  self-surrender, 
to  the  Lord  !  It  is  not  in  the  use  of  means,  generally 
speaking,  that  religious  persons  are  deficient ;  but  it 
is  in  that  believing  use  of  them,  which  recognizes  Him 
as  the  only  Source  of  Grace  and  Life,  and  having  done 
His  will  with  simplicity,  assures  itself  of  the  blessing. 
O  Truei  Vine,  let  us  cleave  to  Thee  with  such  a  faith, 
so  that  the  virtue  which  is  in  Thee  may  pass  into  our 
souls,  and  that  we  may  bring  forth  much  fruit,  to  the 
glory  of  God  the*  Father  !     Amen. 


I.]  Personal  Jiell(/hn  both  Active  and  Contemplative.  J57 


^t^ie' 


CHAPTER  I 

PKKSONAL  RELIGION  BOTH  ACTIVE  AND  COlTrEilrLATIVi: 

"  In  the  year  thai  Kinrj  Uznah  died  laaw  aUothe  Lord  tilting  upon 
a  throne^  high  and  lifted  vp^  and  hi*  (rain /lied  the  temple. 
'*  Above  it  ttood  the  Serapfiimt :  each  one  had  six  winge :  with 
twain  he  covered  hit/ace^  and  with  twain  he  covered  his/ect^  atid 
with  twain  he  did  Jig:'— 1&^  vL  1,  2. 

We  are  speaking  of  Personal  Religion,  which  has  been 
explained  to  be  one  and  the  same  thing  with  the  life  of 
<  lod  in  the  individual  soul.     In  this  Chapter  we  propose 

)  trace  out  the  two  great  divisions  of  the  subject. 
We  are  taught  by  our  Lord  Himself  to  pray  that 
God's  will  may  be  done  "  upon  earth,  as  it  is  in  heaven." 
Tlie  persons  by  whom  it  is  done  in   heaven,  are,  of 

•  >urse,  the  holy  angels.  Our  Lord,  therefore,  in 
bidding  us  offer  this  petition,  proposes  to  us  the 
angelic  life  as  the  model  of  the  Giristian  life.  And 
this  throws  us  back  upon  the  inquiry  what  the  life  of 
angels  is ;  fur  manifestly  we  cannot  form  our  life  upon 
their  model,  unless  we  have  some  sufficient  idea  of  their 
pursuits  and  occupations.  Accordingly,  the  Scripture 
furnishes  such  an  idea.  Tlie  veil  is  drawn  aside  by  the 
]>rophet  Isaiah,  and  a  glimpse  is  given  us  of  the  life  of 
^  raphim,  or  "burning  ones"  (for  such  is  the  meaning 

!  the  Hebrew  word),  an  order  of  angels  who  in  all 

lobabjlity  take  their  name  from  the  fervent  zeal  and 
•burning  love  with  which  they  are  animated.  The 
prophet  sees  in  a  vision  these  shining  creatures  standing 


38  Personal  Religion  Lpaiii 

above  the  throne  of  Christ  (for  it  was  He,  St.  John 
informs  us,  whose  glory  Isaiah  saw  on  this  occasion) ; 
and  their  occupations  were  twofold :  first,  contemplative 
devotion  ;  secondly,  quick  and  active  service.  "  Each 
one  had  six  wings ;  with  twain  he  covered  his  face,  and 
with  twain  he  covered  his  feet ;" — this  is  the  Seraphim's 
life  of  devotion.  "  And  with  twain  he  did  fly  ;" — this 
is  his  life  of  active  service.  If,  then,  God's  will  is  to 
be  done  by  His  people  on  earth,  as  it  is  by  His  angels  in 
Heaven,  there  must  enter  into  the  spiritual  life  upon 
earth  two  great  elements,  devotion  towards  God,  and 
work  for  God.  We  will  take  a  general  view  of  each  of 
these.  Subsequent  Chapters  will  prosecute  the  subject 
in  detail  under  these  two  heads. 

I.  The  spiritual  or  angelic  life  upon  earth  consists 
not  only  of  devotion.  To  suppose  that  the  spiritual 
life  is  devotion,  and  nothing  else,  is  the  mistake  of  the 
recluse,  the  ascetic,  and  the  monk.  One  round  of 
religious  service,  one  long  peal  of  the  organ  from 
matins  to  evensong,  one  prayer  unbroken,  except  by 
the  actual  necessities  of  the  body,  and  by  these  as  little 
as  may  be, — this  is  the  idea  of  conventual  life,  though 
it  may  be  an  idea  never  realized  to  the  full  extent. 
And  quite  apart  from  the  conventual  system,  wherever 
there  are  multiplied  religious  services  (a  great  help,  of 
course,  if  used  in  a  certain  way),  and  leisure  and  the 
will  to  attend  on  them,  there  is  always  a  tendency, 
against  which  the  devout  man  must  be  on  his  guard,  to 
wrap  up  the  whole  of  religion  in  attendance  upon  the 
means  of  grace.  But  the  Seraph  himself,  though  indeed 
the  spirit  of  adoration  is  upon  him  always,  is  not 
always  engaged  in  direct  acts  of  praise.  "  With  twain 
of  his  wings  he  doth  fly," — speed  forth,  like  lightning; 
upon  the  errands  on  which  God  sends  him.     Gabriel, 


i]  boUi  Active  and  Contemplative,  39 

who  stands  in  tho  proscnco  of  God,  must  coLie  down  to 
the  earth,  and  enter  beneath  a  humble  roof  in  Naznrcth, 
to  salute  a  pure  maiden  as  mother  of  tho  Son  of  God. 
Another  angel  has  it  in  charge  to  descend  periodically 
iii^o  the  pool  of  Bcthesda,  and  impart  to  the  waters  a 
healing  efllcacy,  sufficient  for  one  patient.  Another  is 
sent  to  roll  back  the  stone  from  tho  Holy  Sepulchre, 
and  sit  upon  it,  inspiring  the  Roman  guard  with  terror, 
and  the  holy  women  with  an  assurance  of  tho  resur- 
rection. Another  must  pass  into  St.  Peter's  prison- 
house,  and  lead  him  out  through  bolt,  and  bar,  and 
iron  grating,  "to  freedom  and  cool  moonlight  air." 
Another  must  shoot  down,  like  a  falling  star,  into  the 
cabin  of  a  ship  tossed  with  the  waves  of  the  stormy 
Adriatic,  and  announce  to  St.  Paul  that  despite  all 
the  fury  of  the  elements,  he  and  all  the  crew,  of  which 
he  formed  a  part,  were  safe  in  life  and  limb ;  while 
another  is  commissioned  to  salute  by  name  a  praying 
centurion  of  the  Italian  band,  and  to  assure  him  that 
his  prayers  and  his  alms  had  come  up  as  a  memorial 
before  God.  Thus  One  and  all  of  them  are,  not  merely 
adoring  spirits,  but  also  "  ministering  spirits,  sent  forth 
to  minister  for  those  who  shall  be  heirs  of  salvation." 
Praise  is  not  their  only  occupation ;  they  have  active 
work  to  do  for  God. 

leader,  there  is  a  deep-seated  necessity  for  work  in 
the  constitution  of  our  nature.  In  tho  absence  of 
regular  and  active  occupation,  the  mind  is  apt  to  grow 
morbid,  stagnant,  and  what  is  worse  than  either — 
selfish.  One  of  the  greatest  thinkers  of  antiquity 
defined  happiness  to  be  "a;i  energy  of  the  soul."  And 
is  it  not  true  1  Only  watch  the  avidity  with  which 
men,  even  in  extreme  old  ago,  when  one  would  think 
that  the  interests  of  this  life   were  on   the  wane  for 


40  Personal  Beligion  [paei 

them,  catch  at  some  exciting  pursuit,  like  politics. 
The  lesson,  which  as  Christians  we  should  draw  from 
this  observation,  is  that  most  unquestionably  God  has 
made  man  for  activity,  as  well  as  for  contemplation. 
Tlie  reason  why  the  activity  fails  in  numberless  in- 
stances to  secure  happiness,  is  that  it  is  separated  from 
God,  that  it)  is  not  in  His  service  and  interests.  This 
being  the  case,  it  too  often  engrosses,  hampers,  en- 
tangles, impedes, — is  as  a  dead  weight  to  the  soul, 
instead  of,  as  it  might  be,  a  wing,*and  a  means  of  fur- 
therance. 

Let  every  one,  therefore,  who  studies  Personal  Ee- 
ligion,  seriously  consider,  first,  in  what  quarter  lies  the 
work  which  God  has  given  him  to  do  ;  and  next,  how 
he  may  execute  that  work  in  a  happy  and  a  holy  frame 
of  mind.  I  need  not  say  that  the  services  on  which 
God  condescends  to  employ  men  are  almost  infinitely 
various.  Each  one  of  us  has  a  stewardship  somewhere 
in  the  great  social  system,  and  some  gift  qualifying 
him  for  it;  and  if  he  will  but  consult  faithfully  the 
intimations  of  God's  providence,  he  will  not  be  long 
before  he  discovers  what  it  is.  It  may  be  that  we  are 
called  to  very  humble  duties,  duties  very  low  down  in 
f;he  social  scale.  Still  even  they  are  held  from  God,  and 
constitute  a  stewardship ;  and  the  one  talent  which 
qualifies  us  for  them  will  have  to  be  accounted  for  as 
much  as  if  it  were  ten  talents.  To  regard  the  business 
attaching  to  any  station  of  life  as  insignificant,  is  as 
unreasonable  as  it  is  un scriptural.  St.  Paul  says  of  the 
human  body,  that  God  has  "given  honour  to  those 
members  which  lacked."  The  same  may  be  said  of 
society.  Its  whole  fabric  and  framework  is  built  up  of 
humble  duties  accurately  fulfilled  by  persons  in  humble 
stations.     What  would   become  of  society,  and  how 


I .  I  both  Active  and  Coniemplative,  41 

uld  its  well-being  and  progress  bo  secured,  if  all  the 
subordinates  in  every  department  of  life,  all  those  who 
have  to  play  the  more  mechanical  parts,  were  to  throw 
up  their  callings  on  the  excuse  that  tliey  were  not 
sufficiently  dignified?  IIow  would  it  fare  with  the 
plans  of  the  architect,  if  the  builders  and  masons 
throughout  the  country  were  to  suspend  their  labours  ? 
But  we  need  not  reason  upon  the  subject,  where  the 
Word  of  God  has  spoken  so  explicitly.  The  Scripture, 
with  that  wonderful  penetration  into  the  thoughts  of 
man  which  characterizes  its  every  page,  has  taken  care 
to  set  the  seal  of  dignity  and  sacrednesa  upon  those 
callings  and  employments  which  are  lowest  in  the 
social  scale.  Our  Blessed  Lord,  when  learning  of  tho» 
doctors  in  the  Temple,  and  through  their  instruction 
growing  in  wisdom,  teaches  us  that  to  be  engaged  thus 
in  childhood  is  to  be  about  our  Father's  business.  We 
naturally  look  do^vn  upon  a  child  learning  a  lesson,  and 
think  that  it  is  no  great  matter  whether  the  lesson  bo 
learned  or  not.  Christ  opens  a  widely  different  view  of 
the  subject,  when  he  connects  even  a  child's  growth  in 
wisdom  >\ith  its  relation  to  God.  "  Wist  ye  not  that  I 
must  be  in  the  things  of  my  Father  ?"  {Iv  toi?  tov 
Trarpos  ftov.) 

But  still  more  remarkable,  perhaps,  in  its  bearing  on 
our  present  subject,  is  the  treatment  of  the  duties  of 
servants  in  the  New  Testament.  These  servants  were 
slaves,  and  mostly  slaves  to  heathen  masters.  If  ever 
duty  took  a  degrading  form,  it  must  have  done  so 
quently  in  their  case.      If  ever  of  any  calling  one 

night  say,  "There  is  no  divine  stewardship  in  it,"  this 
might  have  been  said  surely  of  slavery  among  the 
heathens.     Yet  it  is  recognized  in  the  strongest  way, 

-hat  even  the  slave's  duties  may  be  sanctified  bv  im 


42  Personal  Meligion  [pari 

porting  into  them  a  Christian  motive,  and  that  when 
such  a  motive  is  imported  into  them,  the  service  is 
really  done  not  to  the  human  master,  but  (marvellous 
condescension  !)  to  the  great  Head  of  the  Church  Him- 
self. "  Stirvants,  obey  in  all  things  your  masters 
according  to  the  flesh :  not  with  eye-service,  as  men- 
pleasers ;  but  in  singleness  of  heart,  fearing  God :  and 
whatsoever  ye  do,  do  it  heartily,  as  to  the  Lord,  and 
not  unto  men;  knowing  that  of  the  Lord  ye  shall 
receive  the  reward  of  the  inheritance  :  for  ye  serve  the 
Lord  ChristP  No  less  truly,  then,  than  .quaintly  did 
good  George  Herbert  sing : 

"All  may  of  Thee  partake: 
Nothing  can  be  so  mean, 
Which  with  this  tincture  (for  Thy  sake) 
Will  not  grow  bright  and  clean. 

"  A  servant  with  this  clause 
Alukes  drudgery  divine. 
Who  sweeps  a  room,  as  for  Thy  laws, 
Makes  that  and  the  action  fine." 

Now  if  both  a  child's  education,  and  a  slave's 
drudgery  find  their  place  in  the  vast  system  of  God's 
service,  what  lawful  calling  can  we  suppose  to  be  ex- 
cluded from  a  place  in  that  system  ? 

n.  But  we  remark,  secondly,  that  there  is  a  con- 
templative element  in  the  service  of  the  Seraphim,— 
that  their  activity  is  fed  from  the  springs  of  their 
devotion.  There  are  two  chief  passages  of  Holy  Scrip- 
ture (one  in  the  Old  and  one  in  the  New  Testament) 
in  which  we  obtain  a  glimpse  of  angels  engaged  in 
worship.  One  is  that  before  us,  in  which  the  prophet 
sees  the  Seraphim,  with  veiled  faces  and  feet,  crying 
one  to  another  before  the  throne,  "  Holy,  holy,  holy,  is 
the  Lord  of  hosts ;  the  whole  earth  is  full  of  His  glory." 


i]  f>'>fh  Active  ana  Contemplative,  43 

riiis  was   a   heavenly  scene.     It  was   enacted   in  the 
Temple,  whicli  represented  Heaven.     But  in  the  New 
Testament  we  find  the  Seraphim  domesticating  them- 
selves upon  earth,  in  the  outlying  field  of  a  village 
wliere  cattle  were  penned.     When  the  Lord  of  Heaven, 
laying  aside  the   robe  of  light  and   the   tiara  of  the 
linbow,  appeared  among  us  in  the  form  of  an  infant 
!  :idled  in  a  manger,  lie  drew  an  escort  of  the  Seraphim 
iler  Him:  "And  suddenly  there  was  with  the  angel 
a  multitude  of  the  heavenly  host,  praising  God  and 
saying.  Glory  to  God   in   the   highest,  and   on  earth 
peace,  good  will  toward  men." 

The  ministry  of  angels  then,  is  only  half  their  life. 
The  other  half,  which  indeed  makes  their  ministry 
glow  with  zeal,  is  their  worship.  And  so  it  must  bo 
with  God's  human  servants. 

The  activity  which  flows  from  ambition,  the  dili- 
gence which  is  purely  mechanical  and  the  result  of 
habit,  is  not  angelic  diligence  and  activity.  To 
attempt  to  lead  the  spiritual  lifb  without  devotion  is 
oven  a  greater  mistake  than  to  go  apart  from  our 
<luties  in  order  to  lead  it.  Our  flying  on  God's 
rrands  will  be  an  unhallowed  flight,  if  we  do  not  first 
-icretly  adore  Him  in  our  hearts.  A  prayerless  day  of 
hard  work,  consecrated  by  no  holy  meditation,  oh, 
what  a  dull,  plodding,  tramping  day  is  it !  How  do 
we  spend  money  in  such  a  day  for  that  which  is  not 
read,  and  our  labour  for  that  which  satisfieth  not! 
How  does  God  in  such  a  day  deal  with  us,  as  with  the 
Eg}'ptians  of  old,  taking  off*  the  chariot-wheels  from 
our  work,  so  that  we  drive  it  heavily  I  How,  if  we 
turn  our  mind  to  better  things  in  the  stillness  of  the 
night,  does  the  Lord  seem  to  stand  over  the  bed,  and 
reprove  all  that  godless  toil  and  turmoil,  which  in  a 


44  Personal  Religion  [part 

spiritual  point  of  view  has  run  to  waste,  with  this 
loving  irony :  *•'  It  is  but  lost  labour  that  ye  haste  to 
rise  up  early,  and  so  late  take  rest,  and  eat  the  bread 
of  carefulness ,  for  so  He  giveth  His  beloved  sleep  !" 
And  in  these  times  and  this  country  the  danger  of  the 
vast  majority  of  men — your  danger,  perchance,  reader 
— ^lies  in  this  direction.  Activity  is  now,  if  it  ever 
was,  the  order  of  the  day  with  all  classes.  Competi- 
tion, and  the  cry  for  qualified  persons  in  every  depart- 
ment of  industry,  are  driving  all  drones  out  of  the 
social  hive.  No  one  has  a  moment  to  spare.  The 
strain  and  stress  of  occupation  frequently  proves  too 
great  for  feeble  bodies  and  sensitive  minds.  And  with 
those  who  are  physically  and  intellectually  equal  to 
cope  with  the  pressure  of  multiplied  and  urgent 
business,  the  mind  too  often  burrows  and  is  buried  in 
its  work,  and  scarcely  ever  comes  out  to  sun  itself  in 
the  light  of  Heaven.  With  a  fatal  facility  we  dispense 
ourselves  from  prayer,  and  meditation,  and  self-exami- 
nation, on  the  ground  of  fatigue,  or  pressing  avocations, 
or  necessity  of  refreshment.  Yet  secret  devotion  is 
the  source,  not  of  strength  only,  but  of  comfort,  and 
even  of  success,  in  any  high  acceptation  of  the  word. 
Success  is  no  success,  if  it  makes  not  a  happy  mind, 
and  the  mind  which  is  not  holy  cannot  be  happy.  A 
good  author,  writing  before  the  invention  of  the 
cjompass,  says, — Even  when  your  affairs  be  of  such 
importance  as  to  require  your  whole  attention,  you 
should  look  mentally  towards  God  from  time  to  time, 
as  mariners  do,  who,  to  arrive  at  the  port  for  which 
they  are  bound,  look  more  up  towards  Heaven  than 
down  on  the  sea  on  which  they  sail ;  thus  will  God 
work  with  you,  in  you,  and  for  you :  and  all  your 
labour  shall  be  accompanied  with  consolation." 


bcth  Active  and  Contemplative    ,.,  4") 


Hitherto  wc  have  boon  founding  our  rcimi^.  ou  a 
passage  of  Holy  Scripture,  which  represents  to  as  tli<! 
employment  of  angels.  And  it  may  be  thought  by 
some  that  the  nature  of  angels  being  probably  exempt 
from  those  infirmities  which  beset  ours,  and  not  ex- 
posed to  the  pressure  of  weariness  or  the  urgencies  of 
appetite,  they  are  in  truth  no  suitable  model  for  us,  or 
at  all  events  a  model  which,  from  the  disparity  of  their 
I'ircumstances,  can  only  put  us  out  of  heart.  But  havo 
'  no  instance  of  life,  both  eminently  practical  and 
eminently  devout,  led  in  the  flesh,  and  under  the 
tonstant  pressure  of  physical  infirmities?  Has  man 
never  yet  attained  to  live"  the  angelic  life  upon  earth  ? 
\ndeed  he  has  done  so ;  and  the  record  of  his  having 
•ione  so  is  in  the  Gospels.  There  was  One  "tempted 
in  all  points  like  as  we  are,  yet  without  sin,"  who 
followed  up  days  of  active  benevolence,  in  which  He 
spent  and  was  spent  for  the  people,  by  nights  of  prayer. 
Consider  only  that  touching  passage  of  His  history,  in 
which,  after  receiving  the  announcement  of  the  Bap- 
tist's death,  our  Lord  expresses  a  natural  desire  for 
privacy  and  repose.  The  multitudes,  however,  track 
Him  to  His  place  of  retirement,  and  throng  around 
Him  there  with  the  clamour  of  their  necessities,  as 
heretofore.  Fallen  human  nature  could  hardly  havo 
done  otherwise  than  vent  a  slight  irritability  at  having 
its  purpose  thus  rudely  crossed ;  but  from  the  depths 
of  that  most  pure  and  loving  heart  there  struggled  up 
no  other  feeling  than  that  of  compassion,  as  He  looked 
forth  upon  the  sea  of  human  heads.  Human  misery 
called  the  Good  Shepherd,  and  He  at  once  responded 
Vo  the  call.  He  healed  all  the  sick  whom  they  had 
brought,  and  **  began  to  teach  them  many  things,"  luitil 
the  day  wore  away.  Having  fed  their  minds  with  Divine 


46  Personal  Religion  [pAr.T 

truth,  lie  proceeded  to  feed  their  bodies  miraculously 
before  He  dismissed  them,  "  lest  they  should  faint  by 
the  way."  And  this  being  done,  one  might  have 
thought  that  at  the  close  of  so  laborious  a  day,  He 
would  at  length  have  sought  repose.  But  He  does 
not  so.  The  pouring  out  of  His  soul  before  tho 
Father  has  been  delayed ;  but  it  shall  not  be  precluded. 
That  His  solitude  might  be  entire,  He  compels  His 
disciples  to  get  into  the  ship,  arjd  go  before  unto  the 
other  side,  while  He  Himself  upon  the  mountain  offers 
His  evening  orison  late  into  the  night.  And  though, 
of  course,  no  fallen  creature  has  ever  maintained  the 
same  nicely-adjusted  balance  between  devotion  and 
active  service,  which  is  observable  in  the  mind  and  life 
of  Christ, — though  some  saints  have  been  (like  St. 
John)  characterized  rather  by  devout  contemplative- 
ness,  and  others  (like  St.  Paul)  by  zealous  activity, — 
yet  all  His  true  people  have  preserved  in  different 
proportions  the  twofold  character ; — all  have  been 
men  of  service,  and  all  have  been  likewise  men  of 
prayer. 

We  have  spoken  of  service  and  prayer  separately,  as  it 
is  necessary  to  do  in  a  disquisition.  Yet  we  ought  not  to 
think  of  them  as  independent  things,  but  rather  as  closely 
related  and  interpenetrating  one  another.  Service  and 
prayer  are  the  web  and  w^oof  of  the  Christian  life,  of 
which  every  part  of  it  is  composed.  Both  are  in  the 
groundwork  of  the  stuff.  Kot  even  in  point  of  time  must 
they  be  too  rigidly  sundered  from  one  another.  Prayer  at 
stated  seasons  is  good  and  necessary ;  but  a  man  aiming 
at  sanctity  in  ever  so  low  a  degree,  will  find  it  impossible 
to  confine  his  prayers  to  stated  seasons.  He  will  soon 
discover  that  prayer  is  literally,  and  not  merely  in  a 
figure,    "  the  Christian's  breath  of  life ;"    and  that  to 


i]  both  Active  and  Contemplative.  47 

attempt  to  carry  on  the  spiritual  life  without  more  prayer 
than  the  recital  of  a  form  on  rising,  and  retiring  to  rest, 
is  about  the  same  absurdity  as  it  would  be  for  a  man  to 
open  his  casement  morning  and  evening,  and  inhale 
the  fresh  air  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  say  to  himself 
on  closing  it,  that  that  amount  of  breathing  must  suf- 
fice him  for  the  rest  of  the  day.  The  analogy  suggested 
by  this  ima^e  is,  I  believe,  a  perfectly  true  one,  and  will 
•''>ld  good  if  examined.  The  air  from  the  casement  is 
ry  delicious,  very  healthful,  very  refreshing,  very  invi- 
gorating ;  it  is  a  good  thing  to  stand  at  the  casement  and 
inhale  it ;  but  there  must  bo  air  in  the  shop,  in  the  fac- 
tory, in  the  office,  as  well  as  at  the  casement,  if  the 
man,  as  he  works,  is  to  survive.  Under  this  view  of  it, 
ojaculatory  prayer  is  seen  to  bo 'even  a  more  essential 
thing  than  stated  prayer.  Both  are  necessary  to  the 
well-being  of  the  Christian  life  ;  but  the  momentary 
liflliig  the  heart  to  God, — the  momentary  realization  of 
His  presence  amidst  business  or  under  temptation, — is 
necessary  to  its  very  being.  The  life  is  no  more,  when 
this  work  is  suspended.  For  which  reason  probably  it 
is  that  the  great  a]>ostolic  prayer-precept  is  given  with  a 
breadth  which  excludes  all  limitations  of  time  and  place, 
— "  Pray  without  ceasing."  Ejaculatory  prayer,  how- 
t  ver,  must  by  and  by  form  the  subject  of  a  distinct 
<  hapter,  which  we  will  not  now  anticipate. 

Keader,  our  subject  assumes,  as  wo  progress  with  it, 
a  more  definite  shape  in  our  minds.  Personal  Religion, 
as  we  saw  in  our  last  Chapter,  involves  growth.  Per- 
sonal Keligion,  as  we  now  see,  involves  prayer, — in- 
cluding under  that  term  all  the  exercises  of  devotion, 
both  public  and  private.  Tlien  are  we  men  of  prayer  % 
Let  the  conscience  take  home  this  question  and  answer 
it  faithfully.     Let  the  conscience  of  men,  and  of  men  of 


48    Personal  Religion  both  Active  and  Contem^ilative. 

business,  take  it  home.  It  is  a  man's  question,  and  a 
busy  man's  question,  rather  than  a  woman's.  Women  as 
a  general  rule  have  more  leisure  than  men,  and  have 
certainly  more  of  that  constitutional  temperament, 
which,  when  God's  grace  visits  it,  inclines  to  devotion. 
It  is  in  a  hard,  busy,  bustling  life,  a  life  which  asks  an 
active  and  unimaginative  mind,  and  which  chills  all 
approach  to  sentiment, — in  short  it  is  in  the  life  of  a  man 
of  business  habits  that  the  temptation  to  live  without 
prayer  is  felt.  How  then,  in  your  case  and  in  mine,  can 
the  searching  question  be  met  ?  Widely  as  in  different 
ages  and  in  different  countries  the  experiences  of  the 
children  of  God  have  differed,  this  has  been  the  one 
universal,  experience,  the  one  common  characteristic 
without  a  single  exception, — hoary-headed  elders,  and 
brave  martyrs,  and  wise  teachers,  and  weak  women, 
and  servants,  and  even  little  children,  "the  great 
multitude  which  no  man  could  number,  of  all  nations, 
and  kindreds,  and  people,  and  tongues," — all  have  been 
people  of  prayer.  Prayer  is  the  very  spot  of  His  chil- 
dren ;  and  the  more  we  know  of  the  power  of  Personal 
Religion,  the  more  distinctly  will  the  spot  come  out,  as 
it  were,  upon  the  surface  of  the  skin.  Is  the  spot  upon 
us  ?  Do  we  enter  often  into  the  closet  of  the  dwelling, 
ofkener  still  into  the  closet  of  the  heart,  to  commune 
with  our  Father  which 'seeth  in  secret?  Unless  this  be 
our  case,  all  our  interest  in  religion  is  superficial,  not 
personal,  and  will  appear  to  be  so,  to  our  confusion,  in 
the  day  when  God  shall  judge  the  secrets  of  men  by 
Jesus  Christ  according  to  the  Gospel, 


PART  TT. 

TIIE   CONTEMPLATIVE    LIFE. 


CIIAPTKR  T. 

THE     MAGNIFICENCE    OF    FKAYKU,    AND    TIIK     VllkO 
TICAL  DEDUCTIONS    FEOM  THAT    DOCTRINE. 

"  JJe  that  Cometh  to  (7orf."— Heb.  xl  6. 

The  Chrislian  life,  as  we  saw  in  our  last  Chapter, 
branches  out  like  the  life  of  the  Seraphim,  into  the  two 
divisions  of  Devotion  and  Action.  We  shall  speak  first 
of  Devotion,  endeavouring  to  furnish  some  thoughts 
\\  hich  may  be  practically  useful  to  the  reader  in  his 
efforts  to  maintain  communion  with  God ;  and  then  of 
Active  Life, — the  spirit  in  which  its  duties  should  be^ 
fulfilled  and  its  difficulties  surmounted.  And  as  ejacu- 
latory  prayer  is,  in  fact,  the  intermingling  of  devotion 
with  action, — as  it  is  the  meeting-point  of  prayer  and 
service, — we  shall  give  it  a  middle  place  between  tho 
two,  and  use  it  as  a  bridge,  whereby  to  pass  from  the 
first  to  the  second  division  of  our  subject. 

First,  then,  to  speak  of  Devotion,  which  for  our 
present  purpose  may  be  all  summed  up  in  one  word. 
Prayer.  There  would  be  less  of  formality  in  prayer,  and 
for  more  of  strength  and  enjoyment  in  it,  if  men  did  but 
grasp  tho  idea  of  what  prayer  is.  But  simple  as  the 
idea  is,  it  requires  an  effort  of  the  mind  to  master  it  j 
and  while  we  are  willing  enough  to  pay  mechanically 
our  daily  tribute  of  homage  at  the  Throne  of  Grace, 


52  Of  the' Magnificence  of  Prayer,  and  the    [paiit 

natural  slothfulness  alwaj?  s  recalcitrates  against  an  effort 
of  mind.  Gradual  ascent  is  as  necessary  to  the  mind, 
in  order  to  its  reaching  a  great  idea,  as  it  is  to  the  body 
in  order  to  its  reaching  a  great  height.  We  cannot  as' 
cend  to  the  pinnacle  of  a  cathedral,  which  towers  aloft 
in  air,  without  either  steps  or  an  inclined  plane.  Wo 
cannot  reach  the  summit  of  a  mountain  without  first 
toiling  up  its  base,  then  traversing  its  breast,  and  then, 
successively,  crossing  the  limits  where  verdure  passea 
into  crag,  and  crag  into  a  wilderness  of  snow.  Even 
when  we  have  gained  the  highest  point,  w*e  are  still,  it 
is  true,  at  an  infinite  distance  from  the  blue  vault  of  the 
firmament  which  stretches  above  our  heads.  Still  we 
have  a  better  and  more  exalted  view  of  wliat  that  fir- 
mament is  :  we  have  at  least  risen  above  the  fogs  and 
mists  which  obscure  its  glory ;  and  the  air  which  en- 
compasses us  is  transparent  to  the  eye,  and  invigorating 
to  the  frame.  Now  the  law  of  man's  bodily  progress 
is  also  the  law  of  his  mental  progress.  Both  must 
be  gradual.  No  grand  idea  can  be  realized  except 
by  successive  steps  and  stages,  which  the  mind  must 
use  as  landing-places  in  its  ascent.  But  what  if  the 
mind,  after  all  its  toil,  should  prove  unable  fully  to 
master  the  idea,  as  must  be  the  case  where  the  idea 
to  be  mastered  is  connected  with  God  and  things 
divine  ?  It  does  not  at  all  follow  that  therefore  our 
labour  has  been  lost.  We  have,  at  all  events,  risen  to  a 
higher  level,  where  our  view  is  more  transparent,  more 
elevating,  more  sublime,  and  where  the  play  of  the 
thoughts  is  invigorating  to  the  inner  man.  And  now 
let  us  apply  these  reflections  to  the  subject  in  hand. 

Prayer  is  nothing  more  or  less  than  a  "  coming  to 
God."  Now  the  bare  conception  of  this  thing, "  coming 
to  God,"  is  sui)lime  and  ennobling  to  the  highest  de 


1 1 . 1       Practical  Deductions  from  thai  Doctri..  .         .  ; 

^,  i\  But  we  arc  fiunlliar  with  the  idea,  and  our  very 
ikmiliarity  with  it — the  currency  of  it  among  religious 
persons  and  in  religious  books — has  worn  off  the  sharp 
edges  of  it,  until  it  has  ceased  to  liave  any  definite  im- 
press. Let  us  seek  and  pray  that  the  idea  may  revive 
with  some  power  in  our  minds.  And  this  we  will  dft 
by  a  series  of  hypotheses,  which  shall  be  as  landing- 
places  for  the  mind  in  its  ascent. 

1.  Let  us  suppose  as  the  first  step  that  we  enjoyed 
the  privilege  of  opening  our  minds  to,  and  consulting 
in  our  every  difficulty  and  trial,  the  very  wisest,  and 
best,  and  most  powerful  man  upon  earth.  Suppose 
that  such  a  j^crson  resided  in  our  immediate  neighbour- 
hood, so  as  to  bo  at  all  times  easily  accessible  to  us. 
Suppose  that  his  doors  stood  open  day  and  night,  and 
that  he  had  left  instructions  with  his  servant  never  to 
deny  him  to  us.  Suppose  that,  from  his  repeated 
invitations,  coupled  with  the  well-known  sincerity  of 
his  character,  we  were  perfectly  assured  that  he  would 
give  his  whole  mind  to  any  case  which  we  might  lay 
before  him,  and  consult  for  us  to  the  best  of  his  ability, 
and  with  the  keenest  interest  in  our  welfare.  Can 
there  be  any  doubt  that  the  doors  of  this  wisest,  and 
best,  and  most  powerful  of  all  men  would  be  besieged 
with  applications  for  admission  to  his  presence,  and 
that  even  where  persons  in  distress  were  not  imme- 
diately extricated  by  his  advice,  it  would  be  a  great 

lief  to  their  minds  to  hear  him  say,  "This  is  an 
intricate  case,  and  will  require  a  great  deal  of  manage- 
ment ;  but  be  assured  I  will  bear  it  in  mind,  and  take 
such  measures  in  it  as  are  most  for  your  welfare  ?  " 

2.  But  the  judgment  of  even  the  wisest  and  best 
men,  while  in  the  body,  is  liable  to  be  disturbed  by 
many  influences,  which  death  will  set  aside.     Mixed 


5-4  Of  the  Magnificence  of  Prayer,  and  the    [pakt 

up  inevitably  with  earthly  interests,  and  looking  at 
things  more  or  less  through  the  medium  of  public 
opinion,  they  are  not  no\y  as  impartial  judges  of  truth 
and  right  as  they  will  be,  when  separated  altogether 
from  the  world.  Let  us  imagine  then  this  great 
separation  to  have  taken  place, — the  just  man  to  have 
been  "  made  perfect,"  and  to  be  now  lying  in  Abraham's 
bosom,  his  mind  stocked  not  only  with  the  experiences 
of  life,  but  with  the  thousand  additional  lessons  which 
death  will  convey.  Imagine  his  spirit  to  be  accessible 
after  death  (as  some  foolishly  and  wickedly  pretend 
that  disembodied  spirits  are  accessible)  to  those  in 
whom  he  felt,  while  living,  the  strongest  interest. 
Let  us  suppose,  to  make  the  image  more  definite  still, 
that  he  is  a  father,  who  has  always  had,  during  life,  a 
word  of  counsel  and  sympathy,  and  a  hand  of  succour 
for  his  children ;  and  that  it  has  so  come  to  pass  that 
death  has  not  cut  them  off  from  this  resort.  Doubt- 
less, they  would  avail  themselves  of  the  privilege  with 
great  eagerness;  the  difference  between  the  consulta- 
tions with  the  living  and  the  departed  parent  being 
chiefly  this,  that  a  certain  awe  would  rest  upon  their 
minds  in  the  latter  case,  from  the  reflection  that  they 
had  to  do  with  the  inhabitant  of  another  world,  and 
that  the  advice  given  would  be  doubly  valued,  coming 
(as,  on  the  hypothesis,  it  does)  from  a  sphere  where  all 
errors  of  judgment  are  thought  to  be  corrected. 

3.  And  now  for  another  step  in  our  ascent.  The 
Scriptures  speak  largely  of  angels,  a  class  of  beings 
whose  faculties  transcend  ours  in  our  present  state; 
and  certain  words  of  our  Blessed  Lord  are  upon  record, 
which,  though  they  cannot  be  said  to  prove,  yet 
certainly,  favour  the  popular  idea  of  the  Jews,  that  to 
each  person  is  assigned  a  guardian-angel.     Assuming, 


II.]       Practical  Deductions  from  that  Doctrine,        55 

th<  n,  for  the  sake  of  argument,  that  such  guardian- 
Liols  exist,  lot  us  suppose  that  each  of  them  feels  a 
cpccial  loving  interest  in  the  particular  soul  under  his 
guardianship,  trembles  for  it  as  in  the  mad  phrenzy  of 
transgression  it  hangs  upon  the  brink  of  eternal  ruin, 
and  rejoices  for  it,  and  with  it,  as  it  is  plucked  away 
iVom  that  brink  by  the  arm  of  the  good  Shepherd,  and 
brought  back  to  the  fold  from  which  it  had  strayed. 
Suppose,  again,  in  this  case  that  wo  had  each  of  us 
some  power  of  access  to  this  guardian-angcl,  that  wo 
c<iuld  summon  him  to  our  aid, — lay  our  difficulties 
Icforo  him,  unburden  our  minds  to  him,  with  the 
assurance  of  receiving  from  him  both  sympathy  and 
succour.  Can  it  be  supposed  that  we  should  not  avail 
ourselves  of  such  a  privilege,  as  opportunity  oficred  t 
that  we  should  never  call  him  to  our  councils,  or 
submit  to  him  our  cares'? 

The  truth  is,  that  both  with  regard  to  angels  and 
to  the  spirits  of  departed  saints,  the  very  questionable 
notion  that  they  are  accessible  to  us  has  been  greedily 
caught  at  and  acted  upon  by  the  Roman  Church.  In 
defiance  of  Holy  Scripture,  which  gives  no  intimation 
whatever  of  the  possibility  of  such  intercourse,  and 
which,  even  if  it  were  possible,  would  exclude  it,  as 
having  a  tendency  to  idolatry,  and  as  being  a  perver- 
sion of  the  religious  instinct,  the  Romanist  still  calls 
on  the  Virgin,  the  saints,  the  holy  Apostles  Peter  and 
Paul,  his  own  patron  saint,  and  his  own  guardian- 
angel,  to  help  him  in  his  troubles.  A  clear  proof  this, 
that,  if  such  intercourse  between  this  world  and  the 
other  were  feasible  and  sanctioned,  it  would  be  abun- 
dantly practised  by  all  men,  that  the  wisdom  and 
power  of  creatures  above  us  in  the  scale  of  nature 


56  Of  the  Magnificence  of  Prayer^  and  the    [pae'i 

would  be  called  in  aid  of  our  ignorance  and  feebleness 
at  almost  every  hour  of  our  existence. 

4.  But  we  have  now  climbed  by  gradual  stages  to 
the  summit  of  the  mountain,  and  are  left  to  contem- 
plate a  privilege,  which  not  only  might  be,  but  which 
is  our  own,  and  yet  of  which  (partly  from  its  very 
cheapness  and  commonness)  we  either  do  not  avail 
ourselves  at  all,  or  avail  ourselves  in  a  formal  and 
mechanical  manner.  "  He  that  cometh  to  God."  In- 
asmuch as  God  is  the  Infinite  One,  we  can  never  by 
any  reach  of  the  mind  grasp  entirely  the  idea  of  coming 
to  Him ;  but  have  we  not  derived  some  help,  some 
clearness  of  view,  some  apprehension  of  the  magnifi- 
cence of  prayer  from  the  train  of  thought  which  we 
have  been  pursuing?  Created  power,  wisdom,  love, 
all  have  their  limits,  beyond  which  they  cannot  help, 
counsel,  or  sympathize :  our  difliculties,  our  perplexities, 
our  sins,  might  easily  outrun  them ;  and  access  to  them 
might  not  be  nearly  of  so  much  value  as  we  are  apt  to 
imagine.  But,  "  he  that  cometh  to  God  " — what  shall 
I  say  of  this  privilege  ?  The  tameness  of  human  lan- 
guage is  disappointing  when  we  attempt  to  describe  it. 
Throw  into  one  great  sum  total  all  that  you  have  ever 
experienced,  or  can  conceive,  of  wisdom  and  power,  the 
most  far-sighted  discernment  of  results,  with  the  most 
absolute  control  over  them, — the  keenest  intuition  into 
character,  with  every  conceivable  influence  for  moulding 
it, — think  of  a  providence  not  of  this  earth,  which  no 
opposition  can  surprise,  and  no  device  counterplot, 
calmly  and  serenely  evolving  its  own  designs  from  the 
perverse  agencies  of  man,  and  turning  the  very  arm 
which  is  raised  to  defeat  it  into  a  minister  of  its 
will, — imagine  a  Being  so  wonderfully  endowed  that 


]        Practical  DeducHoM  from  that  Doctrine ,         57 

I  ho  whole  keyboard  of  Nature,  Providence  and  th« 
iiuman  heart  li.cs  under  His  hand,  and,  smitten  by  His 
mystic  fingers,  gives  forth  the  harmony  which  pleases 
Him;  and  then  invcct  Him  in  your  conception  with 
an  intensity  of  love,  which  is  not  discouraged  by  the 
<loepest  moral  degradation  in   its   objects,  and  which 

iigs  to  the  person  of  the  sinner  with  unchilled  devo- 
tion even  while  it  condemns  his  sin  with  an  abhorrence 
no  less  than  infinite, — imagine  such  a  Being,  and 
imagine  Him  aoocssible  to  man,  and  you  imagine  One, 
to  whom  in  their  hour  of  r^eed  all  the  world,  unless 
indeed  the  spell  of  some  deadly  fascination  were  laid 
upon  them,  would  be  resorting  continually  for  guidance, 
help,  and  comfort.     But  this  is  no  imagination.     It  is 

reality.  God  is  such  a  Being  as  we  have  laboured  to 
describe.  He  not  only  permits, but  invites;  not  only 
invites,  but  commands,  the  approach  to  Him  of  every 

iner.  And  if  there  bo  no  promise  that  every  prayer 
liall  bo  heard  according  to  the  exact  tenor  of  its  pre- 
scription, yet  assuredly  there  is  a  promise  to  all  who 
ask, — most  simple, — most  express,*— most  universal,  of 
that  nourishment  of  grace  for  the  human  spirit,  which 
is  the  alone  support  of  spiritual  life:  "If  ye  then, 
being  evil,  know  how  to  give  good  gifts  unto  your 
t  liildren,  how  much  more  shall  your  Father  which  is  in 
heaven  give  the  Holy  Spirit  to  them  that  ask  Him  1 " 

But  might  wo  not  bo  reasonably  barred  from  this 
access  to  God  by  a  deep  feeling  of  His  purity,  coupled 
with  the  consciousness  of  our  own  sint  Indeed  it 
might  most  justly  be  so.  The  Scriptures,  and  our  own 
hearts  re  echoing  the  Scriptures,  assure  us  that  in  God 
there  is,  by  the  very  necessity  of  His  nature,  a  deep- 

ated  moral  antipathy  to  evil.  "  Ho  is  of  purer  eyes 
tiian  to  behold  iniquity."      In  His  holiness  He  is  a 


58  Of  the  Magnificence  of  Prayer^  and  the    [paei 

consuming  fire  to  the  unholy  creature.  The  rays  of 
the  sun,  concentrated  in  a  burning-glass,  cause  any 
combustible  material,  upon  which  they  are  so  brought 
to  bear,  to  become  sere,  to  shrivel,  to  crumple,  to  ignite, 
and  finally  to  pulverize.  Something  analogous  would 
be  the  fate  of  the  sinner  who,  without  mediation, 
should  presume  to  draw  upon  him  the  full  notice  of  the 
holy  God  by  venturing  into  His  presence.  But  wo 
know  well  that  God  has  provided  for  the  removal  of 
this  barrier.  We  know  well  that  the  obedience  of  the 
Lord  Jesus  was  such  that  the  holiness  'of  God  can 
detect  in  it  no  flaw  ;  that  His  Death  and  Passion  were 
the  endurance  by  the  Righteous  One  of  God's  curse 
upon  sin ;  and  that  the  earliest  message  of  the  Gospel 
is,  that  both  the  obedience  and  the  death  of  Christ  are 
available  for  every  member  of  the  human  family,  who, 
without  an  attempt  at  self-justification,  simply  throws 
himself  upon  that  plea.  The  way  to  come  to  God.  and 
the  only  way  to  come  so  as  not  to  meet  with  rejection, 
is  Christ.  "  I  am  the  way :  no  man  cometh  unto  the 
Father  but  by  Me."*  In  other  words,  when  the  soul  is 
to  be  lifted  up  in  prayer,  it  must  be  in  dependence 
upon  His  merits  and  blood-shedding.  It  was  to  sym- 
bolize this  precious  and  fundamental  truth,  that  the 
primitive  Christians  wore  a  white  garment  in  divine 
worship  (which  still  survives  among  us  under  the  name 
of  the  surplice),  thus  giving  a  lesson,  as  they  were  fond 
of  doing,  through  the  eye,  that  no  soul  of  man  could 
appear  before  God  in  its  native  deformity ;  but  that 
before  we  draw  near  to  the  throne  of  grace,  we  must 
put  on  the  robe  of  righteousness,  which  the  Lord  Jesus 
wove,  and  now  offers  gratuitously  to  all  who  sincerely 
confess  their  spiritual  nakedness  and  shame. 

But  it  is  now  time  to  exhibit  the  bearing  of  these 


1 1 . 1        /  liictical  Deductions  from  thai  Doctrine,         69 

remarks  upon  our  general  argument.  Prayer  i>  ilir 
source  and  secret  of  the  strength  in  which  the  Christian 
must  cope  with  the  duties  and  difficulties  of  life.  And 
one  most  obvious  danger  besetting  the  constantly 
repeated  prayers  of  persons  in  active  life,  is  formality. 
Such  persons,  while  too  conscientious  to  abandon  the 
habit  of  stated  prayer,  soon  find  that  there  is  every 
lemptiition  to  satisfy  the  conscience  with  the  attentive 
repetition  of  a  form,  which  Uikcs  no  hold  of  the  mind,' 

ud  exerts  no  moral  or  spiritual  influence  on  the 
lemper.  Every  real  Christian  is  well  aware  that  thus 
to  reduce  prayer  to  a  form,  is  to  drain  away  from  the 
<  \ercise  all  its  virtue,  until  it  becomes  a  broken  vessel, 

lapty  of  power  and  comfort.      But  how  to  prevent, 

\cn  with  the  best  disposed,  its  lapsing  into  a  form  ? 
Ihe  thing  is  by  no  means  easy,  or  to  be  accomplished 
without  eflbrt.  This  is  just  one  of  those  struggles 
which  beset  real  Personal  Religion,  and  which  baftlc 
and  often  make  sad  the  Christian  who  cannot  acquiesce 
in  mere  respectability,  and  feels  that  God  has  called 
him  to  saintliness.  The  design  of  this  treatise  being 
to  afford  help  and  counsel  to  such  persons,  and  to  lead 
liiem  gradually  onward,  let  me  recommend  that  special 
attention  be  paid  to  the  beginning  and  end  of  stated 
]>raycrs.     "  Before  thou  prayest^"  says  the  wise  man, 

•  prepare  thyself."  Let  the  mind,  as  much  as  may  be, 
l>v'  solemnized,  calmed,  toned  down,  by  taking  in  the 

iiought  of  the  presence  of  God,  and  the  sublime  idea 
of  coming  to  Ilim.  It  has  been  our  purpose  in  this 
Chapter  to  indicate  the  path  along  which  the  mind 
may  travel  with  interest  and  profit  on  such  an  occasion. 
Endeavour  to  recall  these  thoughts,  or  such  as  these, 
with  a  secret  aspiration  that  by  grace  you  may  be 
enabled  to  realize  them.     Lift  up  the  mind  gradually, 


60  Of  the  Magnificence  of  Prayer^  dc.       [paki 

and  by  stages,  to  some  apprehension,  however  dim  and 
unworthy,  of  the  majesty,  the  might,  the  wisdom,  the 
holiness,  the  love  of  God;  and  when,  to  use  the 
Psalmist's  expression,  "  the  fire  kindles,  then  speak 
with  your  tongue."  The  ready  excuse  for  not  com- 
plying with  this  advice,  which  springs  to  every  lip,  is 
"  Time ;  the  sort  of  prayer  you  describe  asks  time ; 
and  my  occupations  drive  me  into  a  corner  for  time." 
To  which  the  answer  is  two-fold  ;  first,  that  time  might 
probably  be  gained  by  a  very  little  of  that  self-disci- 
pline, which  surely  no  man  should  grudge -to  bestow 
on  the  work  of  his  salvation.  Let  conscience  answer 
whether,  despite  all  this  pressure  of  occupation,  time  is 
not  continually  made  for  engagements  of  an  agreeable 
nature?  and  if  made  for  them,  why  not  for  more 
serious  engagements  ?  Secondly ;  that  as  in  other 
things,  so  in  prayer, — a  little  done  well  is  vastly  better 
than  more  done  superficially.  Let  it  be  remembered 
too,  that  both  the  precept  and  the  model  which  Our 
Lord  has  given  us,  rather  discountenance  long  prayers. 
We  are  expressly  counselled  by  Him  against  using  vain 
repetitions,  and  thinking  that  we  shall  be  heard  for  our 
much  speaking,  while  the  compression  of  thought  and 
brevity  of  the  Lord's  Prayer  is  such,  as  to  make  it 
desirable  that  the  petitioner  should  pause  a  little  upon 
each  clause,  and  slightly  expand  for  himself  the  mean- 
ing, as  he  goes  along. 

The  end  of  stated  Prayers  should  also  be  made  the 
subject  of  some  attention  and  care.  It  is  surprising 
how  little  this  principle  has  been  recognized  in  books 
of  devotion.  In  manuals  of  preparation  for  the  Holy 
Communion,  for  example,  how  little  emphasis  is  laid, 
as  a  general  rule,  on  the  regulation  of  the  heart  and 
conduct,  suhsequently  to  the  Ordinance  !     The  natural 


II. J  Of  Hit  Twofold  Aspect  of  Prayer,  dc.  CI 

recoil  fVom  tho  strain  which  real  prayer  always  puts 
upon  the  mind  is  levity.  Against  this  levity  the  devout 
man  sliould  watcli  and  strive.  When  wo  have  with- 
drawn into  ourselves  for  awhile  for  Communion  with 
(lod^  the  glare  of  the  world  should  bo  let  in  gradually 
rii  the  mind  again,  as  an  oculist  opens  the  shutters  by 
degrees  upon  his  restored  patient.  The  impression  of 
having  had  an  interview  with  the  King  of  kings  amid 
the  ministries  of  Cherubim  and  Seraphim  should  not  bo 
rudely  tossed  off,  but  gently  and  thoughtfully  cher- 
ished. And  it  shall  be  as  a  nosegay  of  fresh  flowers, 
which  a  man  gathers  before  ho  leaves  some  fair  and 
(piiet  garden,  a  refreshment  amidst  the  dust  and  tur- 
moil of  earthly  pursuits. 

Make  experiment  of  this  advice,  remembering  that  in 
spiritual,  as  in  intellectual  discipline,  early  efforts  are  fur 
the  most  part  clumsy  failures,  and  that  repeated  trials 
are  the  uniform  condition  of  success ;  and  you  shall 
find,  under  the  blessing  of  God,  that  your  prayers  will 
grow  in  life  and  interest,  and  will  give  that  bright  and 
happy  tone  to  the  mind,  without  which  no  one  ever 
iicountered  successfully  the  duties  and  temptations  of 
active  life. 


CHAPTER  II. 

OF     THE    TWOFOLD    ASPECT   OP    PEATEB,   AND     THE    NE- 
CESSITY  OP   PRACTISmO   IT    IN    BOTH    ASPECTS. 

"  IM  my  prayer  be  get  forth  before  thee  <u  incense :  and  the 
lifting  up  of  my  hands  as  the  evening  iacrifice.^'*—FaA.LM 
cxll  2. 

It  is  observable  that  our  Blessed  Lord,  in  His  Sermon 
on  the  Mount,  takes  up  the  subject  of  prayer  twice ; 


G2     Of  the  Twofold  Aspect  of  Prayer^  and  the    [pakt 

once  in  the  sixth,  and  again  in  a  totally  different  con- 
nexion, in  the  seventh  chapter  of  St.  Matthew's 
Gospel.  Why,  it  may  be  asked,  when  He  was  on  the 
subject  of  prayer  in  the  sixth  chapter,  did  He  not  then 
and  there  exhaust  all  that  was  to  be  said  upon  it  %  It 
is  possible  that  the  answer  to  this  question  may  be 
found  in  the  twofold  aspect  of  Prayer,  which  will  form 
the  subject  of  this  Chapter.  Prayer  is  a  means  of 
supplying  man's  necessities ;  this  is  its  human  aspect 
its  face  towards  man.  Under  this  aspect  our  Lord 
regards  it  in  the  seventh  chapter,  where  He  gives  the 
consolatory  assurance  that  all  our  real  wants  shall  be 
supplied  by  it :  "  Ask,  and  it  shall  be  given  you  ;  seek, 
and  ye  shall  find ;  knock,  and  it  shall  be  opened  unto 
you."  But  Prayer  has  another  quite  distinct  aspect. 
It  is  an  act  of  homage  done  to  the  Majesty  of  God. 
Accordingly  it  is  to  be  performed  with  the  utmost  re- 
verence and  solemnity;  there  is  to  be  no  babbling  in  it, 
no  familiar  glibness  of  the  tongue,  no  running  of  words 
to  waste,  but  simple,  grave,  short,  sound,  well-considered 
speech.  So  had  King  Solomon  said  long  centuries 
ago :  "  Be  not  rash  with  thy  mouth,  and  let  not  thine 
heart  be  hasty  to  utter  any  thing  before  God :  for  God 
is  in  heaven,  and  thou  upon  earth :  therefore  let  thy 
words  be  few."  And  so  says  One  greater  and  wiser 
than  Solomon,  even  Christ,  "  the  Power  of  God,  and  the 
Wisdom  of  God."  These  are  His  words  in  the  sixth 
chapter  of  St.  Matthew's  Gospel :  "  But  when  ye  pray, 
use  not  vain  repetitions,  as  the  heathen  do :  for  they 
think  that  they  shall  be  heard  for  their  much  speaking." 
*'  Be  not  ye  thqrefore  like  unto  them."  In  the  same 
paragraph.  He  says  that  the  homage  is  not  to  be 
ostentatiously  offered,  but  in  the  privacy  of  the  closet. 
Privately  as  it  may  be  paid,  the  Father  will  acknow- 


II.]        Necessity  of  practising  it  in  both  Aspects,        C3 

ledge  it  openly.  Observe  how  the  promise  runs  in  this 
section  of  the  Sermon.  IIo  says  not,  "  the  Father  will 
give  you  tlie  thing  asked  for;"  for  that  was  not  exactly 
the  aspect  under  which  He  was  then  viewing  Prayer ; 
but  "  IIo  shall  reward  thee  openly," — acknowledge 
thee  as  a  true  worshipper  in  the  face  of  men  and 
angels.  The  secret  homage  of  the  Saints  is  to  bo 
owned  at  the  Day  of  Judgment.  Their  wants  are  to  bo 
supplied  in  the  present  life.  Both  these  benefits  ar? 
the  crown  and  meed  of  real  believing  prayer.  But  they 
are  entirely  distinct  subjects  of  thought. 

In  our  last  Chapter  we  rather  looked  at  Prayer  in 
the  former  of  these  two  views,  as  a  means  of  supplying 
man's  wants.  We  regarded  it  as  a  pouring  out  of  the 
heart  with  all  its  felt  necessities,  trials,  and  burdens, 
before  God.  This  it  is.  But  it  is  something  more 
than  this.  And  unless  we  hold  before  the  eyes  of  our 
minds  this  second  aspect  of  it,  not  only  will  our  view 
be  theoretically  incomplete,  (which  of  itself  would 
signify  little,)  but  practical  errors  will  be  insinuated 
into  our  minds,  against  which  it  behoves  every  devout 
man  to  be  upon  his  guard. 

Let  us  turn,  then,  to  consider  this  second  aspect  of 
Prayer  a  little  more  closely.  In  the  passage  which 
stands  at  the  head  of  this  Chapter,  the  Psalmist  very 
beautifully  compares  Prayer  to  the  things  which  indeed 
were  types  of  it  under  the  Old  Dispensation,  Incense  and 
Sacrifice.  "  Let  my  prayer  be  set  forth  in  Thy  sight  as 
incense,  and  the  lifting  up  of  my  hands  as  the  evening 
sacrifice."  With  this  we  connect  the  words  of  St.  John 
in  the  Revelation, — "  Jesus  Christ  hath  made  us  kings 
and  priests  unto  God  and  his  Father."  Every  Christian 
is  really  and  truly  a  priest,  consecrated  in  Baptism  and 
Confirmation,  (not   indeed  to  minister   in  the  congre- 


Gl     Of  the  Twofold  Aspect  of  Prayer,  and  the    [paki 

gation,  but)  to  offer  up  spiritual  sacrifices,  acceptable 
to  God  by  Jesus  Christ.  If  it  be  asked  what  these 
sacrifices  are,  the  Scriptural  answer  would  be, — first, 
our  own  bodies,  which  we  are  bidden  by  St.  Paul  to 
present  as  "  a  living  sacrifice,  holy,  acceptable  to  God, 
which  is  our  reasonable  service :"  secondly,  our  alms- 
givings, which  the  same  Apostle  declares  to  be  "an 
odour  of  a  sweet  smell,  a  sacrifice  acceptable,  well- 
pleasing  to  God ;"  and  last,  not  least,  our  prayers  (in- 
cluding under  this  generic  term  all*  the  exercises  of 
devotion, — confession,  intercession,  thanksgiving,  praise, 
no  less  than  direct  petitions  for  ourselves).  As  the 
fragrant  incense-cloud  went  up  from  the  kindled  coal  in 
the  censor;  as.  the  sweet  savour  went  up  from  the 
burnt  offering,  when  it  was  roast  with  the  fire  of  the 
altar ;  so  true  believing  Prayer,  coming  from  a  kindled 
heart,  rises  of  necessity  to  God,  and  steals  into  His 
immediate  presence  in  the  Upper  Sanctuary.  We  may 
complete  the  imagery  by  observing  that  the  Altar  upon 
which  these  sacrifices  must  be  laid, — the  only  Altar 
which  sanctifieth  the  gift,  and  renders  it  acceptable, — - 
is  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  Himself,  in  the  faith  of  whose 
meritorious  Cross  and  Righteousness  every  prayer  and 
spiritual  oblation  must  be  made. 

Now  is  not  the  view  of  Prayer  which  we  have  thus 
sketched  out  very  distinct,  and  very  important  in  its 
practical  bearings  ?  Prayer  is  designed  not  only  to  be 
seijviceable  to  man,  but  honourable  to  God.  It  is  a 
tax  (redounding  indeed  with  unspeakable  benefits  to 
the  tax-payer,  but  still  it  is  a  tax  laid  upon  our  time ; 
just  as  almsgiving  is  a  tax  laid  upon  our  substance; 
and  if  we  would  render  unto  God  the  things  that  are 
God's,  the  tribute-money  must  be  faithfully  and  punc- 
tually paid.     This   indeed  is  the  inner  principle   and 


r  j         Xtcessity  of  practising  it  in  boUi  Aspects,        05 

[>irit  of  the  fourth  Commandment.  God  says  wo  must 
keep  a  certain  portion  of  our  time  clear  from  scculai 
occupations.  Tliat  time  is  to  Lc  devoted  to  the  ob- 
sor\'ance  of  llis  ordinances,  and  to  attendance  upon  His 
Worship.  It  is  true  wo  reap  priceless  blessings  from 
'llis  observance  and  attendance.  But  the  blessings  are 
not  the  sole  point  to  be  considered.  All  our  time  from 
tlie  cradle  to  the  grave  is  due  to  God.  Every  day  is  the 
-  ifb  of  His  mercy  through  Jesus  Christ    Therefore  one 

':;iy  in  each  week, — and,  on  precisely  the  same  principle, 

L  certain  portion  of  our  leisure  each  day, — must  bo 
need  around  fVom  the  intrusion  of  secular  cares  and 
.-ocular  business,  and  reserved  for  devotion,  in  acknow- 
ledgment that  we  hold  all  from  Him.  Upon  this  principle 
the  stated  private  prayers  of  morning  and  evening  should 
be  oflered  punctually,  as  well  as  under  the  other  view 
already  dwelt  upon,  that  we  need  something  of  God, 
and  must  go  and  ask  it.  Think  of  yourself  before  you 
kneel  down,  not  simply  as  a  suppliant  for  help,  but  as 
;i  priest  addressing  himself  to  offer  sacrifice  and  to  burn 
incense.  The  time  of  the  morning  or  evening  oblation 
is  come;  the  Altar  is  ready;  the  incense  is  at  hand ; 
tlie  sacerdotal  robe  of  Christ's  Righteousness  waits  to 
be  put  on ;  array  thyself  in  it,  and  go  into  the  sanc- 
tuary of  thy  heart,  and  do  the  priestly  ministration. 

Now  let  us  consider  of  what  practical  service  these 
reflections  may  be  to  us,  in  resisting  those  temptations, 
and  overcoming  those  difliculties  which  beset  all  earnest 
Prayer. 

Prayer,  like  faith  (of  which  it  is  the  voice  and 
"xpression),  is  a  thing  perfectly  simple  in   idea,  but 

xceedjngly  difficult  of  execution.     If  you   can   pray 

ight,   you   have   mastered   the  great  secret  of  the 

spiritual   life ;  but  easy  as   it   is  to  understand  theo- 


60     Of  the  Twofold  Aspect  of  Prayer^  and  the    [paet 

retically  what  right  prayer  is,  it  is  fiir  from  easy  to 
practise  it.  The  difficulties,  if  traced  to  their  origin, 
arise,  no  doubt,  very  much  from  the  fact  that  our 
adversary  the  Devil  is  fully  aware  of  the  power  of  real 
prayer,  and  therefore  sets  in  operation  all  his  devices  to 
harass,  distract,  and  disquiet  every  earnest  petitioner. 
So  long  as  a  man's  prayers  are  dead  and  lifeless  exer- 
cises, and  act  as  an  opiate  to  the  conscience,  without 
exercising  any  sanctifying  influence  on  the  character, 
of  course  it  meets  with  no  opposition  from  this  quarter ; 
but  let  it  once  pass  out  of  the  domain  of  form  into  that 
of  real  communion  with  God,  and  it  is  sure  of  dis- 
turbance in  one  shape  or  another, — sure  of  falling  far 
below  the  mark  wiiich  the  petitioner  sets  before  him. 
Consider  what  perfect  trifles  to  the  Christian  even  the 
worst  trials  of  life  would  become,  and  with  what  ease 
the  most  formidable  temptations  would  be  mastered,  if 
Prayer  always  opened  to  him  the  gate  of  Heaven,  as 
perhaps  it  has  seemed  to  do  on  some  favoured  days ;  as 
it  might  do  always,  if  there  were  not  certain  disturbing 
influences,  constantly  drawing  it  down,  as  with  the 
force  of  gravitation,  to  a  lower  level.  One  of  the 
earliest  of  these  disturbing  influences,  of  which  the 
awakened  soul  becomes  conscious,  is  the  temptation  to 
leave  off*,  w^hen  the  exercise  promises  to  be  dry  and 
barren,  and  when  the  mind  is  much  harassed  by  dis- 
tractions. When  we  fail  to  derive  from  Prayer  comfort 
and  satisfaction,  we  become  cowards,  and  run  away 
from  the  faldstool.  We  give  up  the  attempt,  because 
it  meets  with  discouragement  at  the  outset.  Now  this, 
like  most  other  defects  of  practice,  is  traceable  ulti- 
mately to  an  error  of  principle.  We  have  forgotten 
that  Prayer  (I  am  now  speaking  of  stated  Prayer) 
is  an  act  of  homage  to  Almighty  God ;  wo  regard  it 


li.  I        yccessil}/  of  practising  ii  in  both  Aspects,       67 

simply  In  its  bearing  on  the  spiritual  wclfuro  of  man,— 
on  his  inward  peace,  light,  strcngtii,  and  comfort.  Wo 
become  utilitarians  as  to  Prayer,  and  secretly  think 
that  where  no  sensible  benefit  is  derived  from  it,  it 
need  not  bo  pursued  any  further.  And  if  Prayer  were 
only  valuable  for  its  effect  upon  the  mind  of  man, — if 
it  had  no  higher  significi\nce  than  this, — the  reasoning 
would  bo  just.  But  if  Prayer  bo  truly  a  sacrificial  act, 
an  act  of  ministry  on  the  part  of  the  Christian,  a 
homage  rendered  to  the  Majesty  of  Heaven,  then  to 
abandon  it  in  disgust,  because  it  cannot  bo  performed 
with  entire  comfort  and  satisfaction  to  our  own  minds, 
instead  of  being  regarded  as  a  recognition  of  the  spir- 
ituality of  prayer  (which  is  the  light  we  are  apt  to 
view  it  in),  ought  to  be  regarded  as  a  dereliction  of 
duty.  It  is  a  peevish  indulgence  of  self,  by  which  God 
is  robbed  of  His  incense. — Nay, — let  the  rulo  invaria- 
bly be  this :  where  you  cannot  pray  as  you  would,  pray 
as  you  can.  It  was  the  quaint  but  excellent  saying  of 
an  old  saint,  that  a  man  should  deal  with  distractions  in 
Prayer  as  he  would  deal  with  dogs,  who  run  out  and 
bark  at  him  when  he  goes  along  the  street, — walk  on 
fast  and  straightforward,  and  take  no  notice  of  them. 
Persevere  in  presenting  yourself  to  God  durnig  the 
period  for  which  the  Prayer  ought  to  last,  and  would 
last  under  happier  circumstances.  He  loves  to  draw 
out  perseverance  in  prayer,  loves  the  indication  thus 
given  that,  amidst  all  discouragements,  the  soul  clings 
obstinately  to  Himself;  and  very  early  in  the  world's 
history  He  signified  His  approval  of  this  temper  of 
mind  by  rewarding  and  crowning,  as  He  did,  Jacob's 
struggle  with  the  Jehovah- Angel.  Something  obscure 
and  mysterious  will  always  hang  over  that  passage  of 
Old  Testament  history.     But  we  cannot  (?rr  in  regard* 


08     Of  the  Twofold  Aspect  of  Prayer^  and  the    [part 

ing  the  Patriarch's  v>"orcIs,  "  I  ^vill  not  let  thee  go,  ex- 
cept thou  bless  me,"  as  designed  to  teach  us  a  lesson 
of  perseverance  and  resolute  determination  in  our  inter- 
course with  God,  amidst  all  the  difficulties  by  which 
earnest  Prayer  is  beset. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  this  quiet  resolute  pa- 
tience, even  amidst  the  disorders  and  distractions  of 
our  own  spirit,  is  probably  the  most  acceptable  offer- 
ing which  can  be  made  to  the  Most  High.  It  is  an  easy 
thing  to  pray,  when  our  prayer  s(3ars  to  Heaven  on 
the  wings  of  a  warm  emotion,  and  when  the  Holy  Spirit, 
like  a  favouring  gale,  seems  to  swell  the  sails  which 
the  mind  spreads  to  catch  His  blessed  influence.  Pray- 
er is  then  a  matter  of  feeling  rather  than  of  principle. 
But  when  we  have  to  woo  the  gale,  and  yet  the  gale 
comes  not,  when  the  vessel  has  constantly  to  be  set  on 
different  tecks,  and  yet  seems  to  make  little  or  no  way 
towards  the  shore,  it  is  then  that  our  fidelity  in  paying 
our  homage  to  God  is  tested  and  approved.  And  let 
us  be  sure  that  it  will  not  be  long  tested  and  approved, 
before  it  is  rewarded.  We  shall  not  long  wait  on  the 
Lord,  without  renewing  our  strength.  We  shall  not 
long  persevere  in  asking,  amid  repulses,  before  He  will 
turn  and  open  to  us  the  treasury  of  His  bounty,  and 
say  to  us,  as  to  the  Syrophoenician  of  old,  "  Great  is 
thy  faith  ;  be  it  unto  thee  even  as  thou  wilt."  Yet  if 
the  blessing  come  not  in  the  shape  of  sensible  comfort, 
resign  thy  will  to  God's  Will,  and  that  resignation  it- 
self shall  be  an  acceptable  sacrifice.  Thou  worshippest 
Him  not  for  the  mere  comfort  of  worshipping  Him,  but 
because  He  is  infinitely  worthy  of  homage  from  every 
knee  and  lip.  "  How  many  courtiers  be  there,"  says 
an  excellent  writer  on  devotion,  "  that  go  an  hundred 
times  a  year  into  the  prince's  chamber,  without  hope  of 


i:.j        Necessity  of  practising  it  in  both  Aspects,       69 

onoe  speaking  with  him,  but  only  to  bo  seen  of  him. 
So  must  we,  my  dear  Philothea,  come  to  the  exercise 
of  Prayer  purely  and  merely  to  do  our  duty,  and  to 
testify  our  fidelity.  If  it  please  His  Divine  Majesty  to 
speak,  and  discourse  with  us  by  His  holy  inspirations 
and  interior  consolations,  it  will  be  doubtless  an  inesti- 
mable honor  to  us,  and  a  pleasure  above  all  pleasures ; 
but  if  it  please  Him  not  to  do  us  this  favour,  leaving  us 
without  so  much  as  speaking  to  us,  as  if  lie  saw  us  not, 
'f  as  if  we  were  not  in  His  Presence,  we  must  not  for 
ill  that  go  our  way,  but  continue  with  decent  and  de- 
vout behaviour  in  the  Presence  of  His  Sovereign  Good- 
ness ;  and  then  infallibly  our  patience  will  be  acceptable 
to  Him,  and  He  will  tike  notice  of  our  diligence  and 
perseverance  ;  so  that  another  time,  when  we  shall  come 
before  him,  He  will  favour  us,  and  pass  His  time  with 
us  in  heavenly  consolations,  and  make  us  see  the  beau- 
ty of  holy  Prayer  *." 

We  have  been  exhibiting  Prayer  under  its  aspect 
of  homage, — the  aspect  in  which  it  has  reference  to 
God's  glory  rather  than  man's  wants.  We  are  confi- 
dent that  by  many  excellent  and  devout  people  this 
aspect  of  it  is  altogether  dropped  out  of  sight.  And 
we  are  sure  also  that  this  defective  view  leads  frequent- 
ly to  a  degenerate  style  of  prayer.  Robbed  of  its  char- 
acter of  homage,  prayer  soon  becomes  an  entirely  selfish 
thing ;  and  the  petitioner,  when  engaged  in  it,  soon  comes 
to  regard  every  thing  as  beside  the  mark,  which  has  no 
reference  to  his  own  immediate  necessities.  It  is  very 
desirable  to  redeem  prayer  from  this  exclusively  selfish 
character ;  to  give  it  a  wider  scope  and  a  grander  bearing ; 
and  the  keeping  in  mind  what  has  been  said  of  it  as  an  act 

*  S.  Franjois  de  Sales,  Introduction  k  la  Vie  devote. 


70     Of  the  Twofold  Aspect  of  Prayer^  and  the    [pakt 

of  homage  and  priestly  service  will  perhaps  help  us  in 
achieving  this  desirable  end.  But  definite  practical  rules 
may  be  given,  which  will  not  be  long  acted  upon,  with- 
out giving  a  better  tone  to  our  devotions.  There  are 
parts  of  Prayer  which  cannot  be  selfish,  which  directly 
seek  either  the  interests  of  others,  or  the  glory  of  God  , 
— see  that  these  parts  be  not  absent  from  your  prayers. 

First ;  intercede  for  others,  and  acquire  the  habit 
of  interceding.  Consider  their  wants,  trials,  and  diffi- 
culties, and  bear  them  upon  your  Tieart,  as  you  bear 
your  own,  before  the  Throne  of  Grace.  Intercession  is 
a  priestly  service.  Christ,  the  great  High  Priest,  inter- 
cedes for  us  all  above.  And  we,  if  we  would  prove 
ourselves  members  of  God's  Royal  Priesthood  upon 
earth,  and  perform  with  fidelity  those  spiritual  sacrifices 
which  we  were  consecrated  in  Baptism  to  present,  must 
intercede  for  others.  It  is  truly  lamentable  to  think 
how  defective  in  this  point  of  view  are  the  devotions 
of  the  best  Christians, — how  thoroughly  well  content 
they  are  that  the  half-hour  daily  spent  in  intercourse 
with  God,  should  be  devoted  entirely  to  their  "own  strug- 
gles, their  own  trials,  their  own  wants.  So  little  pro- 
ficient are  they  in  Charity,  and  so  little — so  very  little 
— can  they  realize  the  constant  "  our  "  and  "  us  "  of  the 
Lord's  Prayer, — whereby  Christ  teaches  us,  in  a  way 
more  emphatic  than  many  sermons,  that  we  should  pray 
as  members  of  a  family, — with  the  wants,  sins,  tempta- 
tions, burdens  of  the  whole  family  continually  upon  our 
hearts.  Until  we  can  in  some  measure  do  this,  we  do 
not  pray  after  the  Lord's  model.- 

Secondly ;  let  Praise — I  say  not  merely  thanksgiving, 
but  Praise — always  form  an  ingredient  of  thy  prayers. 
We  thank  God  for  what  He  is  to  us  ;  for  the  benefits 
prhich  He  confers,  and  the  blessings  with  which  He 


II.]        Necessiti/  of  practmng  it  in  both  Aspects,        71 

IJut  wo  praiso  Him  for  what  He  is  in  Him- 
soil', — fur  His  glorious  excellences  and  perfections,  in- 
dependently of  their  bearing  on  the  welfare  of  the 
creature.  In  Praise  the  thought  of  self  vanishes  from, 
and  is  extinguished  in,  the  mind ;  and  therefore  to  be 
large  and  fervent  in  Praise  counteracts  the  natural 
ttndchcy  to  selfishness  which  is  found  in  mere  Prayer. 

Think  not,  O  man,  whosoever  thou  art,  that  God 
will  dispense  with  this  tribute  of  Praiso  from  thee! 
Remember  tliat,  merely  as  a  man,  thou  art  the  High 
Priest  of  all  creation,  a  little  miniature  of  the  Universe 
ill  thyself,  representing  the  Angels  in  virtue  of  thy 
immortal  spirit,  the  lower  creatures  in  virtue  of  thy 
sensations  and  appetites,  and  matter  in  virtue  of  thy 
body.  Thus,  when  thou  singcst  praise,  all  Creation  (in 
a  manner)  sings  in  thee  and  with  thee. 

And  it  shall  often  happen  that  when  thy  heart  is 
numb  and  torpid,  and  yields  not  to  the  action  of 
Prayer,  it  shall  begin  to  thaw,  and  at  last  burst,  like 
streams  under  the  breath  of  spring,  from  its  icy  prison, 
with  the  warm  and  genial  exercise  of  Praise.  The 
deadness,  the  distractions  thou  deplorcst,  shall  flee 
away  as  the  harp  is  taken  down  from  the  willow,  and 
strung  to  celebrate  the  Divine  perfections.  For  how 
much  is  there  to  kindle  the  heart  in  the  very  thought 
of  Praise!  Praise  is  the  religious  exercisee — the  on 
religious  exercise — of  Heaven.  Angels  are  offering  it 
ceaselessly,  resting  not  night  or  day.  Saints  are  oflfcr* 
Ing  it  ceaselessly  in  Paradise.  Nature  in  her  every 
district  is  offering  it  ceaselessly.  From  the  Heavens, 
which  declare  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  firmament, 
which  showeth  His  handiwork,  down  to  the  dewdrop 
which  sparkles  with  the  colours  of  the  rainbow,  and 
the  lark,  who  tunes  her  cheerful  carol  as  she  salutes 


72  The  Secret  of  Success  in  Prayer.  [paet 

the  rising  sun,  the  whole  Creation  sends  up  one  grand 
chorus  of  Praise  to  the  Throne  of  God.  Thou  shalt 
feel  that  thou  art  not  alone  in  offering  it,  that  every 
act  of  true  praise  is  social,  and,  as  it  were,  choral, 
though  offered  in  solitude.  "  All  saints  far  on  earth, 
and  in  Paradise,  feel  without  knowing  it  the  impulsa 
of  each  other's  adoration,  and  join  in  with  it,  liks 
strings  that  vibrate  to  the  same  tone,  without  touching 
each  other'."  And  the  sense  of  sympathy  in  the  exer- 
cise shall  kindle  life  in  thee,  and  the  soul  shall  recover 
its  benumbed  energies,  and  Prayer  shall  h&  no  more  a 
painful  wrestling  with  thy  own  mind,  but  a  solace,  and 
a  strength,  and  a  light,  and  a  healing. 


CHAPTER   III. 

THE  SECRET  OF  SUCCESS  IN  PEAYEE. 

"  And  in  the  morning  as  they  passed  by,  they  saw  the  Jig-tree 
dried  up  from  the  roots.  And  Peter  callitig  to  remembrance 
saith  unto  him,  Master,  behold,  the  fig-tree  which  thou  cursedst  is 
withered  away.  And  Jesus  answering  saith  unto  them,  Have 
faith  in  God.  For  verily  I  say  unto  you,  That  whosoever  shall 
say  unto  this  mountain,  Be  thou  removed,  and  be  thou  cast  into  the 
sea :  and  shall  not  doubt  in  his  heart,  but  shall  believe  that  those 
things  which  he  saith  shall  come  to  pass  ;  he  shall  have  whatsoever 
he  saith."— M.ARK  xi.  20—23. 

It  is  very  observable  that  the  remarks  which  Oui 
Blessed  Lord  makes  on  the  incidents  presented  to  Him, 
and  His  comments  on  the  sayings  which  were  dropped 

^  Rev.  Charles  Marriott,  Thoughts  on  Private  Devotion. 


]  Thr  Secret  of  Sitci-  ,      ycr,  7o 

■'  li...  ^..\.  .:.^.,  .i..'  1.  '.  uL  all  moct  our  natural  antici- 
. lions  of  what  tho  occasion  required.  Merely  human 
comments  on  what  is  said  or  done  in  society  are  almost 
always  obvious;  and  they  are  so  because  they  are 
shallow,  caught  up  rapidly  from  tho  surface  of  tho 
subject,  and  flung  abroad  at  random  upouf  tho  appre- 
hension of  tho  hearers.  But  infinite  wisdom — ^and  our 
Lord  is  tho  Infinite  Wisdom  personified — explores  the 
depths  of  every  subject  wliich  is  brought  before  it,  and 
dives  into  tho  heart  of  every  speaker,  and  answers  not 
according  to  the  superficial  bearing  of  the  subject,  not 
according  to  tho  literal  expression  of  tho  lips,  .but 
according  to  the  hidden  harmony,  which  it  requires 
thought  and  prayer  to  bring  to  light,  and  aQCording  to 
the  intent  of  the  heart. 

As  an  illustration  of  this,  take  the  words  which 
and  at  the  head  of  this  Chapter,  with  the  circum- 
stances which  gave  rise  to  them.  Our  Lord  on  finding 
a  fig-tree  barren,  which  had  made  a  great  show  of 
leaves,  had  pronounced  on  it  a  solemn  curse.  In  con- 
sequence of  the  curse  the  fig-tree  had  withered.  The 
disciples  seeing  it  dried  up  from  the  roots,  call  the 
attention  of  their  Master  to  the  fact  And  Ho  replies, 
"  Have  faith  in  God," — and  so  forth. 

Now,  the  question  is,  What  remark  would  a  mere 
wise  man, — one  wiser  than  his  fellows,  if  you  will,  but 
still  a  mere  man, — have  made  under  such  circum- 
stances %  Supposing  we  ourselves  were  great  teachers 
of  moral  truth  ; — what  comment  would  have  risen  to 
our  lips  on  having  our  attention  called  to  the  sere  and 
blighted  tree  1  Possibly  we  might  have  drawn  from 
the  circumstances  its  obvious  moral — thus :  "  That  fig- 
tree  is  the  Jewish  nation.  Its  show  of  leaves  is  the 
profession  which  they  make  of  godliness — *  Wc  arc 
4 


74  The  Secret  of  Success  in  Prayer.  [paki 

instructors  of  the  foolish ;  lights  of  them  that  sit  in 
darkness ;  guides  of  the  blind  ;  teachers  of  the  babes/ 
&c.  Its  want  of  fruit  is  their  spiritual  barrenness, — 
their  want  of  practice,  while  they  have  so  much  pro 
fession.  Its  present  withered  state  foreshows  their 
future  dooTn, — which  is  to  stand  a  blighted  monument 
of  wrath  on  God's  highway."  But  whatever  our  com- 
ment on  the  occasion  might  have  been,  this,  I  think,  \z 
certain,  that  it  would  not  have  been,  ''  Have  faith  in 
God."  That  is  not  obvious  enough!  We  know  that  it 
must  be  exactly  to  the  point,  the  precise  word  for  the 
occasion, — because  the  Infinite  Wisdom  said  it, — but 
it  requires  a  great  deal  of  consideration  to  see  Iwio  it  is 
to  the  point.  Faith,  and  prayer,  and  forgiveness,  are, 
no  doubt,  matters  of  vast  importance ;  but  what  have 
they  to  do,  how  are  they  connected  with,  the  cursing 
and  withering  of  a  fig-tree  1  On  the  surface  we  can 
trace  no  connexion  whatever.  And  we  conclude  that 
we  must  dive  beneath  the  surface  by  meditation,  and 
prayer  for  the  Light  of  God's  Spirit,  if  we  would  catch 
the  silver  tlu'cad,  on  which  are  strung  these  beautiful 
diamonds  of  holy  instruction. 

The  outline  of  the  connexion  is  probably  this : — 
St.  Peter's  expression  was,  "  Master,  behold  the  fig- 
tree  which  thou  cursedst  is  withered  away."— That 
was  his  language.  What  was  the  thought  of  his  heart 
which  spoke  itself  out  in  that  language  %  Probably  of 
this  kind.  "  What  words  of  power  are  thine,  O  Master 
Thou  spakest  yesterday  a  few  simple  words,  '  No  fruit 
grow  on  thee  hereafter  for  ever.'  Thou  spakest  them 
quietly,  as  thou  ever  speakest.  No  immediate  sign 
followed.  The  earth  did  not  tremble  at  thine  utter- 
ance. The  vault  of  heaven  did  not  echo  it  back  in 
thunder.     All   things    seemed  unchanged   around  us. 


11.]  The  Secret  of  Success  in  Prayer,  75 

llio  insect  hummed  upon  his  way  in  the  morning  sun, 
and  the  waggoner  trolled  his  song,  as  ho  drove  past  us 
with  his  marlvot  stores — and  wc  dropped  the  word  out 
of  our  memory.  But  it  has  not  fallen  to  the  earth. 
Fallon  to  the  earth !  no,  it  was  a  power-word.  No 
sooner  said  tluui  done.  The  word  sped  to  its  accom- 
plishment, as  an  arrow  speeds  to  the  mark.  The 
imprecation  yesterday; — to-day,  in  visible  and  due 
d»>velopmcnt,  the  blight ! — *  Behold  !  the  fig-treo  that 
thou  cursedst  is  withered  away.* "  "  And  Jesus  an- 
swering, said  unto  them" — possibly,  as  if  to  answer 
his  thoughts,  lie  fixed  His  wonderful  eye  upon  the 
speaker,  in  the  assurance  that  Ho  explored  his  inmost 
soul—"  Have  faith  in  God."  As  if  He  had  said,  "  My 
words  are  power-words  indeed.  They  take  effect — 
immediate  effect.  They  are  not  spoken  in  the  air; 
they  achieve  something.  Little  children,  ye  shall  be 
OS  your  Master.  I  will  teach  you  to  speak  power-w^ords 
like  mine.  Your  prayers  for  good  shall  speed  to  their 
accomplishment,  as  surely  apd  as  fast  as  my  prayer  for 
evil  upon  the  fig-tree.  Ask,  and  ye  shall  have.  Ask- 
ing and  having  shall  be  linked  together  as  closely  as 
the  cursing  and  the  withering  of  the  fig-tree, — if  only 
ye  will  ask  in  faith, — if  only,  on  the  ground  of  God*s 
promise  made  to  prayer,  you  will  believe,  while  ye  ask, 
that  you  receive  the  object  of  your  petitions.  This  and 
another  condition — that  you  forgive  injuries, — that  you 
pray  in  love  as  well  as  in  faith, — this  shall  ensure  the 
success  of  your  Prayers.  You,  like  your  Heavenly 
Father,  shall  speak,  and  it  shall  be  done — ^you,  like 
Him,  shall  command,  .and  it  shall  stand  fast." 

Such  is  the  connexion  of  thought  between  our  Lord's 
words,  and  the  occasion  which  gave  rise  to  them.  J/Ct 
us  now  learn  from  them  the  secret  of  successful  prayer. 


76  The  Secret  of  Success  in  Prayer.  [part 

Prayer  is,  without  doubt,  the  great  means  of  advance 
in  Personal  Religion  and  the  spiritual  life.  But  it  is 
surprising,  and  most  disheartening,  how  very  little  pro- 
portion the  progress  of  religious  persons  bears  to  their 
prayers.  Were  the  prayers  formal, — that  is,  were  they 
said  without  seriousness  and  attention,  and  without  any 
corresponding  effort  to  amend  the  life,  of  course  the 
account  of  this  barrenness  would  be  obvious.  But  this 
is  by  no  means  the  case.  The  petitioner,  in  the  case 
which  we  are  supposing,  seriously  an^  earnestly  desires 
spiritual  blessings.  He  gives  serious  and  close  atten- 
tion to  the  words  which  he  employs  in  prayer.  He 
strives  to  realize,  when  he  employs  them,  the  awful 
Presence  of  God.  Yet  somehow  or  other  the  prayer  is 
not  so  successful  as  it  should  be.  It  may  calm  his 
mind,  quiet  his  spirit,  spread  a  general  sensation  of 
happiness  over  his  soul ;  these  are  what  I  may  call  the 
natural  influences  of  Prayer ;  but  it  does  not  seem  that 
he  is  substantially  the  better  for  it.  There  is  a  great 
mass  of  Prayer,  and  very  Ijttle  sensible  improvement, — 
very  little  growth  in  grace.  Years  roll  on ;  and  his 
character  is  s'till  very  stagnant  in  any  spiritual  view  of 
it ;  excellent,  upright,  and  devout  as  far  as  man  can 
mark,  he  has  not  made  much  progress  in  Divine  things. 
The  many,  many  words  of  Prayer  seem  spoken  in  the 
air  ;  they  are  sent  forth  into  the  vast  world  of  spirits, 
like  Noah's  raven  from  the  ark,  never  to  return  again. 

Is  this  true  as  a  general  description,  if  not  to  the 
full  extent,  of  any  one  who  reads  these  lines  ?  Then 
let  me  invite  such  a  person  to  consider  the  secret  of 
successful  Prayer,  as  explained  by  our  Lord  Himself. 
May  it  not  be  that  your  words  are  not  words  of  power, 
because  they  are  not  words  of  Faith  ?  You  pray  rather 
as  a  duty,  than  in  the  definite  expectation  of  any  thing 


N.  I  The  Secret  of  Success  in  Prayer.  77 

to  be  gained  by  it.  You  pray  attentively,  seriously, 
devoutly  ;  and  you  go  your  way  with  a  feeling  of  satis- 
faction th:it  you  have  done  well  upon  the  whole,  and 
♦.here  the  matter  ends.  In  the  ancient  augury  by  birds, 
as  soon  as  the  augur  had  made  the  preliminary  arrange- 
ments,— covered  his  head,  marked  out  the  heavens  with 
his  staff,  and  uttered  his  prayer, — ho  stayed  on  the  spot, 
watching  for  the  first  appearance  of  the  birds, — ho  was 
on  the  look  out  for  the  result.  But  this  is  just  what 
many  Christians  fail  to  do  in  regard  of  their  prayers ; 
*hcy  have  no  expectation  of  being  benefited  by  them; 
\iey  do  not  look  for  the  blessing  to  which,  in  virtue 
« f  God's  promise  in  Christ  Jesus,  the  prayer  entitles 
them.  If,  some  day,  after  praying  for  the  Light  of 
<iod's  Spirit,  they  were  to  find  in  the  study  of  His 
Word  a  wonderful  clearing  up  of  things  which  had  been 
dark  before,  and  a  lucid  apprehension  of  Divine  Truth, 
they  would  be  inwardly  surprised,  from  the  mental  habit 
of  disconnecting  Prayer  with  its  efiect,  and  would  say, 
"  What  do  I  owe  this  to  ?  **  Now  what  would  this 
surprise  argue?  What  does  the  want  of  expectation 
that  good  will  result  to  us  from  our  prayers  prove 
respecting  our  state  of  mind  1  Surely  that  we  have  no 
definite  belief  that  the  blessing  will  be  granted, — in  a 
word,  no  faith  in  God's  promise,  which  connects  Prayer 
with  the  answer  to  Prayer, — the  word  with  the  power. 
The  Scriptures  lead  us  to  suppose  that  there  is  no 
height  of  holiness  to  which,  in  the  might  of  God's 
Spirit,  we  cannot  attain.  There  is  no  reason  why  we 
should  not  be  so  full  of  love  and  zeal, — why  our  souls 
should  not  be  so  penetrated  at  all  times  with  a  sense  of 
Christ's  Love  and  Presence,  that  we  should  breathe 
liabitually  the  element  of  praise,  and  that  every  meal 
should  become  a  Sacrament.    I  say  there  is  no  reason, 


78  The  Secret  of  Success  in  Prayer.  [paki 

except  such  as  resides  in  ourselves.  And  the  difficulties 
which  reside  in  ourselves,  and  result  from  our  corrupt 
nature,  hard  heart,  stubborn  will,  and  so  forth,  the 
Spirit  of  God  has  overcome  in  numberless  instances  of 
saints  of  old,  and  may  overcome  in  us.  "  Is  the  Lord's 
arm  shortened,  that  it  cannot  save ;  or  his  ear  heavy, 
that  it  cannot  hear  ?"  "  The  power  that  worketh  in 
us  "  is,  as  we  read,  "  able  to  do  exceeding  abundantly 
above  all  that  we  ask  or  think."  This  is  admitted  in 
theory  by  all.  But  now,  when  we  come  to  pray,  and 
to  set  before  us  this  high  standard  of  holiness  as  an 
object  of  ambition,  a  subtle  unbelief  rises  and  spreads 
like  leaven  in  the  heart.  We  have  no  notion  (the 
truth  had  better  be  told  candidly)  that  God  either 
will  or  can  make  us  eminent  saints.  Perhaps  He  may 
help  us  a  little  to  overcome  this  evil  temper,  to  rid 
ourselves  of  that  bad  habit,  and  may  make  us,  very 
gradually  indeed,  fair  average  Christians ;  but  as  for 
any  great  progress,  any  high  pinnacle  of  virtue,  that  is 
out  of  the  question  with  our  temptations  and  under  our 
circumstances.  We  have  not  leisure  enough.  We 
have  not  time  enough  for  prayer  ;  and  we  cannot  get 
time.  Our  passions  are  strong  and  in  their  heyday. 
The  least  cross  turn  of  things  in  the  day  upsets  our 
temper.  We  are  men  hurried  with  engagements,  all 
hot  with  a  thousand  secular  interests ;  or  we  have  a 
mighty  passion  for  human  praise  and  the  laurels  of 
earthly  distinction  ;  you  cannot  make  saints  cut  of 
that  material.  It  is  an  impossibility.  You  might  as 
well  advance  to  the  brink  of  one  of  the  lakes  that  lie 
embosomed  in  Alpine  scenery,  and  command  the 
enormous  granite  mountains  that  tower  above  you  to 
descend  and  cast  themselves  into  the  sea.  They  would 
not  answer  you.      There  would  be  neither  voice  nor 


II  ]  ITie  Secret  of  Success  in  Prayer,  10 

hearing.  And  the  evil  tempers  and  corrupt  inclinationa 
will  not  answer  us,  when  in  the  might  of  Prayer  wo 
command  them  to  come  out.  Something  like  this  is 
t»>o  often  the  secret  process  of  our  "hearts,  when  wo 
kneel  down  to  pray.  Now  I  am  not  going  to  plead  for 
a  fanatical  view  of  answers  to  Prayer.  1  have  no  great 
fiiith  in  sudden  revolutions  of  feeling,  or  instantaneous 
conversions.  I  know  full  well  that  growth  in  Grace,  as 
in  Nature,  may  be  so  rapid  as  to  be  unhealthily  rapid, 
as  to  indicate  shallowness  and  want  of  depth.  But 
imo  thing  I  do  believe, — to  disbelieve  which  were  the 
ost  unreasonable  of  all  follies, — to  believe  which  is 
iiio  dictate  of  the  calmest,  soberest,  purest,  highest 
reason.  One  thing  I  do  believe, — more  surely  than 
the  evidence  of  the  senses,  for  they  may  bo  imposed 
upon; — more  surely  than  those  self-evident  axioms, 
upon  which  mathematical  truth  is  built,  lor  tliose 
axioms  are  only  spun  out  of  the  hun^an  mind,  and 
not  external  to  it.  I  do  believe  that  God  is  true.  I 
do  believe  that  whenever  God  makes  a  promise.  He 
will  assuredly  fulfd  it.  I  do  believe  that  if  you  or  I 
come  under  the  terms  of  the  promise.  He  will  fulfil  it 
to  us.  I  see  that  lie  has  promised  the  Holy  Spirit  to 
them  that  ask  Him  ;  and  it  were  blasphemous  not  to 
believe  that  the  Holy  Spirit  is  able  to  surmount  any 
and  every  difficulty. 

Therefore  if  I  have  ever  secretly  reasoned  as  above, 
if  such  has  ever  been  the  secret  process  of  my  heart,  I 
stand  convicted  of  unbelief.  It  is  no  marvel  that  God 
has  withheld  the  blessing,  if  I  so  dishonoured  Him  in 
my  heart  as  never  seriously  to  believe  that  He  could  or 
would  bestow  it.  And,  in  future,  if  I  would  meet  with 
success,  I  must  come  to  the  Throne  of  Grace  with  an 
undoubting  mind.     Having  launched  my  petition  into 


80  The  Secret  of  Success  in  Prayer.  [pari 

the  world  of  spirits,  I  must  stand  (like  good  Habak 
kuk)  upon  the  watch,  and  set  me  upon  the  tower,  and 
must  watch  to  see  what  He  will  say  to  me.  Having 
prayed  "Show me  a  token  for  good,"  I  must  wait,iike 
the  augurs,  looking  up  to  Heaven  until  the  token  comes. 
I  must  in  the  depth  of  my  inmost  heart  expect  to  re- 
ceive what  I  ask  for.*  And  then  if,  besides  this,  my 
prayer  be  a  prayer  of  Love, — if,  while  I  breathe  it,  my 
heart  goes  forth  on  an  errand  of  forgiveness  towards 
the  man  who  has  thwarted  or  strivdi  to  injure  me, — 
then  the  answer  cannot  long  tarry.  The  prayer-word 
must  in  that  case  be  a  power-word.  The  effect  must 
be  in  that  case  as  surely  linked  to  the  petition  as  the 
blighting  of  the  fig-tree  was  linked  to  the  Saviour's 
malediction.  "  Through  it  tarry,  wait  for  it ;  because 
it  will  surely  come,  it  will  not  tarry." 

Before  concluding  this  Chapter,  we  will  give  one 
simple  piece  of  advice,  by  way  of  rendering  more  prac- 
tical what  has  been  said. 

Strive  to  acquire  the  habit  of  asking  definitely  for 
particular  graces  of  which  you  stand  in  need,  and  of 
expecting  a  definite  result.  For  example ;  what  point 
of  character  was  it  in  which  you  found  yourself  most 
deficient  in  the  examination  which  preceded  your  last 
Communion  1  Until  the  next  Communion  comes  round, 
let  that  particular  grace,  whether  it  was  purity,  or  hu- 
mility, or  patience,  or  zeal,  or  love,  be  made  the  sub- 
ject of  a  distinct  petition  in  your  prayers.  Do  not  for- 
get the  petition ;  always  have  it  in  your  mind's  eye  ; 
try  to  expect  the  result, — to  assure  yourself,  on  grounds 


*  "  My  voice  shalt  Thou  hear  betimes,  0  Lord ;  early  in  the 
mormng  will  I  direct  my  prayer  unto  Thee  and  will  look  np^''  i.Oi 
<u  a  watchman^  according  to  the  Hebrew. 


The  Secret  of  Success  in  JQmiSi\  i^\ 


ill  (Jue  season,  reap. 

Some  may  ask,  and  it  is  well  thai 
a  distinct  and  unequivocal  answer, — "  u 
warrant  for  believing  that?"    There  arc  m 
rants.    We  will  t^ike  that  which  seems  least  aip;iuio  ol 
being  evaded.     It  occurs  in  Luke  xi.  13.     Read  it  over 
before  you  make  your  daily  petition,  and  remember 
that,  whatever  else  may  bo  false,  this  must  bo  true. 

"  If  yb  tiien,  being  evil,  kuow  now  to  give  good 

GIFTS    UNTO    YOUR    CHILDREN;      HOW    MUCH    MORE    SHALL 
YOUR  HEAVENLY  FaTIIER  GIVE  THE  IIOLY  SpiRIT  TO  THEM 

THAT  ASK  Him  1  " 

It  will  be  admitted  that  if,  after  saying  ihat^  God 
were  to  withhold  the  Holy  Spirit  from  those  that  ask 
Him,  He  would  bo  raising  expectations  which  would 
bo  disappointed, — a  thing  plainly  abhorrent  to  His 
character.  I  must  also  call  particular  attention  to  tho 
fact,  that  the  one  only  condition  which  this  promise 
contemplates,  in  tho  persons  to  whom  it  is  addressed, 
— is  the  asking.  If  you  ask,  tlien,  clearly  and  beyond 
tlie  shadow  of  a  doubt,  you  arc  entitled  to  receive. 
You  may  bo  very  sinful  at  present,  very  weak,  very 
diflcrent  in  many  respects  from  what  you  wish  to  be  ; 
that  is  all  beside  the  mark.  The  terms  of  the  promise 
under  which  you  must  come,  if  you  desire  its  fulfilment, 
are  not  that  you  shall  be  holy,  but  only  that  you  shall 
be  an  asker. 

Glorious  promise  !  so  sublime !  "  If  ye,  being  evil, 
know  how  to  give  good  gifts  to  your  children  "  (why, 
we  know  that  the  tenderness  and  love  of  human  parents 
is  proverbial)  :  "  how  much  more  shall  your  heavenly 
Father  give  " — Give  what  1  Health,  and  freedom  from 
pain,  and  a  sound  mind  in  a  sound  body  t  Good  things 


82  The  Secret  of  Success  in  Prayer.          [pakI! 

these ;  but  He  will  give  sometliiiig  better.  What  then  \ 
Long  life,  and  many  days  %  Ah  !  it  might  be  only  a 
grief  of  heart  to  thee ; — no,  something  better.  Large 
store  of  silver  and  gold,  flocks  and  herds,  and  great 
worldly  well-being  ? — Ah  !  the  canker  of  self-indulgence 
might  convert  it  all  into  a  curse  ;  no,  something  better. 
Lofty  distinction,  high  posts,  crowns,  and  empires,  and 
a  great  name, — all  the  kingdoms  of  the  world  and  the 
glory  of  them  ?  Nay,  better,  muQh  better.  "  The 
Holt  Spirit,"  to  be  the  soul  of  thy  soul,  to  new-create 
thy  moral  nature  in  the  Image  of  God,  to  dwell  in  thee 
and  walk  in  thee,  making  thy  heart  His  shrine ;  a  pres- 
ent stream  of  joy,  and  strength,  and  consolation,  spring- 
ing up  into  everlasting  life ; — "  how  much  more  shall 
your  heavenly  Father  give  the  Holy  Spirit  to  them 
that  ask  Him  1 "  Glorious  promise  !  so  free  !  Free  as 
the  air  of  heaven  to  those  who  will  but  come  forth  and 
breathe  it.  Free  as  the  rivers  of  the  earth  to  those 
who  will  but  dip  a  cup  in  them,  and  slake  their  thirst. 
Then  come  forthwith,  and  claim  this  mighty  Boon. 
Come  with  strong  desire.  Let  the  heart  speak,  rather 
than  the  mouth.  Come  in  stedfast  faith,  fastening  the 
whole  soul  upon  that  solemn  asseveration, — "  Yea,  let 
God  be  true,  and  every  man  a  liar  ! "  And  lo  !  your 
word  is  a  word  of  power.  It  has  unlocked  Heaven. 
Before  you  call,  He  answers ;  and  while  you  are  yet 
speaking.  He  hears. 


II.]  Of  Self 'Examination,  S3 


CHAPTER  IV. 

OF  SELF-EXAMINATION. 

**  And  the  Lord  »ent  Nathan  unto  David,  And  he  came  unto  Aim, 
and  »aidunto  Atm,  There  were  tteo  men  in  one  city:  the  one  riclh 
and  the  other  poor.  The  rich  man  had  exceeding  many  Jlockt 
and  herd$ ;  but  the  poor  man  had  nothing,  eave  one  little  ewe 
latnh,  which  he  had  bought  and  nourished  up  :  and  it  grew  up 
together  with  him,  and  with  Ide  children:  it  did  eat  of  Jiia  own 
meat,  and  drank  of  his  own  cup,  and  lay  in  his  bosom,  and  teas 
unio  him  <u  a  daughter.  And  there  came  a  traveller  unto  the 
rich  man,  and  he  spared  to  take  of  his  ownfock,  and  of  his  oton 
herd,  to  dress  for  the  wayfaring  man  that  was  come  unio  him  : 
but  took  the  poor  man's  lamb,  and  dressed  it  for  the  man  that 
was  come  unto  him.  And  David^s  anger  was  greatly  kindled 
against  the  man  ;  and  he  said  to  Nathan,  As  tlic  Lord  livdh,  the 
man  that  hath  done  this  thing  sIvaU  surely  die:  and  he  sTiaU  restore 
the  lamb  fourfold,  because  he  did  this  thing,  and  because  Tie  had 
no  pity.  And  Nathan  said  to  David,  Tliou  art  the  man. — 2 
Sam.  xiL  1—7. 

In  this  striking  passage  of  Holy  Scripture  we  sec 
King  David  in  disguise  brought  before  his  own  judg- 
ment seat.  His  judgment,  as  chief  magistrate  of  Ids 
realm,  is  demanded  upon  an  imaginary  case  of  wanton 
and  cruel  oppression,  the  exact  counterpart  of  that 
which  he  had  himself  committed.  David,  not  recog- 
nizing himself  under  the  disguise  which  the  prophet 
had  thrown  over  him,  passes  sentence  of  death  and 
fourfold  restitution  upon  the  imaginary  offender.  No 
sooner  had  the  sentence  gone  out  of  the  king's  mouth 
than  the  prophet  unmasks  the  muffled  and  mysterious 
figure  which  stood  at  the  bar,  tears  away  the  disguise, 
and  shows  to  the  astonished  king  himself:  "Thou  art 


84  Of  Self-Examination  [paei 

the  man."  How  came  it  to  pass  that  David  was  so 
incensed  with  cruelty  and  oppression  in  a  supposed 
case,  though  he  had  remained  so  long  (since  his  child 
was  born  when  Nathan  came  to  him,  it  cannot  have 
been  much  short  of  a  year)  insensible  to  the  far  more 
heinous  cruelty  and  oppression  of  his  own  conduct  1 
The  reason  is,  of  course,  that  we  never  judge  of  our 
own  conduct  in  any  affair,  as  we  do  of  an  abstract 
case  in  which  we  are  not  ourselves  mixed  up,  and 
in  which  our  feelings,  passions,  and  prejudices  are  not 
interested.  Moralists  have  questioned,  and  there  seems 
every  reason  to  question,  whether  a  man  can  do  a  bad 
action  without  justifying  it  to  his  own  conscience  as  at 
least  excusable  under  the  circumstances, — or,  in  other 
words,  whether  evil,  without  a  certain  colour,  pretext, 
and  palliation,  can  ever  be  accepted  by  the  human  wdll ; 
but  the  colours  and  pretexts  which  serve  for  our  own 
conduct  are  never  available  for  that  of  other  men.  We 
judge  them,  as  David  judged  the  imaginary  offender  in 
the  parable,  nakedly,  truly,  and  severely  enough. 

It  is  the  object  of  these  pages  to  give  some  thoughts, 
which  may  be  practically  useful  on  the  subject  of  Per- 
sonal Eeligion,  Now  the  chief  devotional  exercise 
which  turns  Religion  into  a  personal  thing,  v/hich  brings 
it  home  to  men's  business  and  bosom,  is  Self-examina- 
tion. A  man's  religion  cannot  well  be  one  of  merely 
good  impressions, — the  staple  of  it  cannot  well  be  an 
evaporating  sentiment,  if  he  have  acquired  the  habit 
of  honestly  and  candidly  looking  within.  The  subject, 
therefore,  which  we  treat  to-day,  has  the  closest  bearing 
upon  the  general  argument  of  the  work. 

Self-examination  may  be  called  an  arraignment  of 
ourselves  at  our  own  bar,  according  to  that  word  of  our 
Eucharistic    Service :    "  Judge    therefore    yourselves, 


II.]  Of  Self-Examination.  85 

brethren,  that  ye  be  not  judged  of  the  Lord."  It  is  an 
exercise  most  essential  to  our  spiritual  health  ;  and  the 
more  earnestly  to  bo  pressed  on  all  Protestants,  because 
there  cxisU  in  the  Reformed  Churches  no  security  but 
that  of  right  principle  for  its  ever  being  practised.  In 
the  Roman  Church  you  are  aware  it  is  otherwise.  Tlie 
system  of  the  confessional,  with  all  its  evils  and  abomi- 
nations, may  at  least  fairly  lay  claim  to  tlie  advantage 
of  exacting  a  certain  amount  of  introspection  from  those 
who  honestly  conform  to  it  We  who  have  not  this 
checlv,  and  among  whom  the  work  of  probing  the  con- 
science with  the  Word  of  God  is  done  from  the  pulpit, 
must  at  least  see  to  it  that  we  make  such  work  per- 
sonal, by  applying  to  ourselves  in  Self-ixainination  the 
Sermons  which  we  hear  and  read. 

It  is  easy, — fatally  easy, — with  Stli-exaiiiination  as 
with  Prayer,  to  allow  the  exercise  to  be  drawn  down 
from  its  high  moral  and  spiritual  aim  to  the  level  of  a 
form.  A  string  oT  questions  put  to  the  conscience 
every  evening  before  our  evening  prayer,  never  varying 
with  the  circumstances  of  the  day,  turning  principally 
upon  outward  conduct,  and  answered  almost  mcchan- 
icully — this,  if  the  truth  must  be  confessed,  is  what  the 
Self-examination  of  devout  and  well-intentioned  people 
too  often  reduces  itself  to.  Not  that  we  at  all  counsel 
the  abandonment  of  such  a  practice,  where  it  is  done 
with  real  seriousness  and  attention.  It  is  almost  a 
principle  of  the  spiritual  life  tliat  ground  is  never 
gained,  always  lost,  by  giving  up  forms  through  a  dread 
of  formality ;  ftie  way  to  gain  ground  is  to  quicken  and 
vitalize  the  forms.  Nightly  examination  of  the  con- 
science is  any  how  a  safeguard  for  the  performance  of 
the  duty,  and  a  most  excellent  preparative  for  evening 
prayer.      But  while  we  continue  it,  let  us  strive  to 


8(5  Of  Self -Examination.  [rAin 

throw  reality  and  life  into  it  by  regarding   the   great 
duty  on  a  large,  comprehensive,  and  spiritual  scale. 

Consider,  first,  the  necessity  for  all  of  us,  in  respect 
both  of  our  sins  and  of  our  good  works,  of  an  exercise 
like  Self-examination.  This  necessity  arises  from  the 
fact,  so  distinctly  stated  in  Scripture, that  ''the  heart  is 
deceitful  above  all  things,"  and  that  "  he  that  trusteth 
in  his  own  heart," — in  its  dictates  respecting  him- 
self and  his  own  spiritual  condition, — "  is  a  fool."  It 
has  pleased  God  to  illustrate  this  cardinal  truth  by  two 
grand  examples,  one  in  the  Old  and  one  in  the  New 
Testament.  It  must  have  been  by  trust  in  the  subtle 
evasions  and  plausible  shifts  of  his  own  heart,  that 
David,  after  committing  two  of  the  worst  crimes  of 
which  our  nature  is  capable,  so  long  contrived  to  keep 
his  conscience  quiet,  but  at  length  was  convicted  of  the 
desperate  folly  of  severely  condemning  in  another  man 
the  very  faults,  which,  in  an  infinitely  aggravated  form, 
he  had  been  palliating  and  excusing  in  himself.  And 
it  was  by  trusting  in  the  assurances  which  his  heart 
gave  him  of  his  own  strong  attachment  to  his  Master, 
that  St.  Peter,  secure  of  himself,  was  betrayed  into  the 
weakness  and  folly  of  denying  Christ. 

May  we  say  that,  while  all  characters  are  liable  to 
the  snare  of  self-deception,  those  are  more  particularly 
exposed  to  it,  who,  like  St.  Peter  and  David,  are  persons 
of  keen  sensibilities,  warm  temperaments,  quick  affec- 
tions ?  Probably  we  may ;  for  affectionateness  of 
disposition  readily  commends  itself  to  the  conscience  as 
a  thing  which  cannot  be  wrong,  and  ^cretly  whispers 
to  one,  who  is  conscious  of  possessing  it,  "  This  gene- 
rous trait  in  you  will  cover  and  excuse  many  sins." 
An  acrid,  soured  character  cannot  flatter  itself  that  it  is 
right  with  half  the  facility  of  a  warm  and  genial  cha- 


J  Of  Scl/'Examiiiaiion.  8  7 

racier.  A  man,  who  sins  by  passions  the  roverso  of 
malignant,  is  apt  to  thank  God  secretly  that  ho  is  not 
malignant,  totally  forgetting  that,  although  not  malig- 
nant, ho  follows  his  own  impulses  as  entirely,  and  so  is 
as  purely  selfish  as  thcfmalignant  man. 

But  how  shall  we  bring  home  to  ourselves  the  dan- 
gcrousness  of  trusting,  without  due  examination,  to  tho 
verdict  of  our  ovm  hearts  ?  Wo  will  do  so  by  sup- 
posing a  parallel  case  in  a  matter,  where  we  are  all 
peculiarly  apt  to  bo  cautious  and  suspicious, — tho  goods 
of  this  world.  Suppose  then  (and,  in  a  commercial 
country  like  this,  the  supposition  has  been  not  unfre- 
<juently  realized)  that  the  chief  agent  in  some  great 
speculation  is  a  man,  who,  though  most  untrustworthy, 
has  all  the  art  of  conciliating  trust.  Suppose  him  to 
be  fluent,  fair-spoken,  prepossessing  in  manners  and 
appearance,  and  to  bo  especially  plausible  in  glossing 
over  a  financial  difficulty.  Advance  one  more  step  in 
the  hypothesis,  and  suppose  him  to  be  a  private  friend 
of  many  of  those  who  are  embarked  with  him  in  the 
same  speculation ;  allied  to  some  of  them  by  marriage, 
and  more  or  less,  in  habits  of  intimacy  with  all.  If 
such  a  person  is  at  the  head  of  affiiirs,  and  entrusted 
with  the  administration  of  the  funds  contributed  by  all, 
it  is  evident  that  he  might  impose  upon  tho  contrib- 
utors to  almost  any  extent.  His  artful  representa- 
tions would  quiet  their  little  panics,  when  such  arose ; 
and  he  would  have  it  in  his  power  to  keep  them  still, 
\v  hile  embezzling  their  resources,  until  the  great  crash 
•mes,  which  announces  to  many  of  them,  as  with  a 
clap  of  thunder,  that  they  are  bankrupts.  Now  the 
peril  of  such  trust  in  worldly  matters  supplies  a  very 
fair  image  of  the  peril  of  a  still  more  foolish  and 
groundless  trust  in  spiritual  things.     Our  hearts  are 


88  Of  Self- Examination.  [pakI 

notoriously  most  untrustworthy  informants  in  any  case 
where  we  are  ourselves  interested.  It  is  not  only 
Scripture  which  assevers  this.  We  confess  it  ourselves, 
and  re-echo  the  verdict  of  Scripture,  when  we  say  of 
any  slight  matter,  with  which  \fe  happen  to  be  mixed 
up,  "I  am  an  interested  party,  and  therefore  I  had 
better  not  be  a  judge."  But  while  our  hearts  are  thus, 
by  our  own  confession,  untrustworthy,  there  is  no  one 
in  whose  assertions  we  habitually  place  more  trust. 
We  think  we  cannot  be  deceived  respecting  ourselves ; 
we  know  at  all  events  our  own  motives  and 'intentions, 
if  we  know  any  thing.  The  unkind,  the  insincere,  the 
ungenerous,  the  ungrateful,  never,  we  think,  had  any 
affinity  with  our  nature ;  for  we  have  never,  as  I  ob- 
served above,  admitted  these  forms  of  evil,  without 
first  palliating  and  disguising  them,  and  making  them 
look  respectable  to  our  own  consciences.  Faults  there 
may  have  been,  no  doubt,  in  our  temper  and  our  con- 
duct;— feelings  (and  transactions,  too)  for  w^hich  we 
feel  that  we  are  in  account  with  God  ;  but  we  leave 
our  own  heart  to  manage  and  superintend  the  account ; 
and  it  soothes  us  with  the  assurance  that  we  never  had 
any  very  bad  intention,  and  so  the  whole  affair  will 
turn  out  well  in  the  end, — we  need  not  fear  the  ul- 
timate exposure.  Self-love  conspires  w^ith  trust  in 
our  own  hearts,  to  make  dupes  of  us  as  regards  our 
spiritual  account.  Proverbially,  and  in  the  verdict  of 
all  experience,  love  is  blind ;  and  if  love  be  blind,  self- 
love,  being  the  strongest,  the  most  subtle,  the  most 
clinging,  the  most  ineradicable  of  all  loves,  is  blinder 
still.  Self-love  will  not  see,  as  self-trust  cannot  see, 
anything  against  us.  With  these  strong  partialities 
to  self  in  our  own  heart  ever  operative  within  us,  and 
never  probably  capable,  even  in  the  best  men,  of  being 


T I .  ]  Of  Self 'Examination.  89 

entirely  detached  from  us,  to  what  an  extent  may  wo 
he  imposed  upon,  in  tliat  which  most  vitally  and  nearly 
concerns  us,  if  we  do  not  from  time  to  time  call  in  and 
examine  the  accounts!  What  frightful  arrears  may 
we  be  running  up,  unawares  to  ourselves,  if  we  do  not 
t^harply  check  and  suspiciously  watch  this  heart,  who 
administers  for  us  the  account  between  us  and  God ! 
And  how  may  this  accumulated  arrears  of  guilt  burst 
upon  our  minds  witli  an  overwhelming  force  when  God 
judges  the  secrets  of  men  by  Jesus  Christ  according  to 
the  Gospel, — when  the  divine  sentence  unmasks  our 
sin  of  those  excuses,  with  which  we  have  been  pal- 
liating it,  and  brings  it  home  to  us  with  a  "Thou  art 
the  man !" 

The  first  step  in  real  self-examination  is  to  be  fully 
aware  of  the  deceitfulness  of  the  heart,  and  to  pray 
jigainst  it,  watch  against  it,  and  use  every  possible 
method  of  counteracting  it.  But  what  means  can  we 
use  ?  We  offer  a  few  practical  suggestions  in  answer 
to  this  question. 

First ;  a*  regards  our  acknowledged  sins,  Wc  must 
remember  that  their  hatefulness,  and  aggravations,  if 
they  were  publicly  confessed,  might  very  probably  be 
recognized  by  every  one  but  ourselves,  the  perpetrators. 
There  are  certain  loathsome  diseases,  which  are  offensive 
and  repulsive  in  the  highest  degree  to  every  one  but 
the  patient  And  there  is  a  close  analogy  between  the 
spiritual  frame  of  man  and  his  natural ;  if  the  moral 
disease  be  your  own, — rooted  in  your  character,  cling- 
ing to  your  own  heart,  it  never  can  affect  you  with  the 
same  disgust  as  if  it  were  another  man's.  Every  step 
therefore  must  be  taken  to  stand  as  clear  as  may  bo  of 
the  sin,  while  we  sit  in  judgment  upon  it.  In  the 
first  place,  in  tlic  case  of  exceptional  and  grievous  sins, 


90  Of  Self -Examination,  [pari 

might  not  another  sometimes  be  called  in  to  sit  in 
judgment,  and  so  a  fairer  sentence  secured  than  we  are 
competent  to  give  ourselves  ?  If  there  be  the  moral 
courage  equal  to  a  perfectly  candid  avowal, — such  an 
avowal  as  keeps  back  no  aggravating  circumstance, — 
and  if  an  adviser  is  to  be  had  at  once  holy,  discreet,  and 
considerate, — why  should  it  not  be  related  to  such  an 
adviser,  that  his  counsel,  prayers,  and  sympathy  may 
be  sought?  Surely  the  Scriptural  rule  has  a  founda- 
tion of  wisdom;  "Confess  your  sins*  one  to  another, 
and  pray  for  one  another,  that  ye  may  be  healed."  If 
however  we  are  aware  that  such  an  exposure  could  not 
be  made  by  us  in  our  present  state  of  moral  attainment 
with  perfect  integrity, — that  we  should  be  casting  about 
in  it  to  regain  by  palliating  touches  the  forfeited  esteem 
of  him,  on  whom  we  threw  ourselves  thus  confidentially, 
— or,  in  other  words,  that  we  are  not  men  enough  to 
make  ourselves  as  vile  in  the  eyes  of  our  fellow- 
creatures  as  we  are  in  God's  eyes, — then  until  such 
moral  courage  is  attained  by  us,  (and  surely  we  may 
lawfully  pray  for  its  attainment,)  we  must  attempt  to 
secure  the  same  end — a  fair  judgment  upon  our  sin — in 
another  way.  To  stop  short  of  the  whole  mischief  in 
confession  to  a  fellow-creature,  would  only  be  to  deceive 
him  as  well  as  ourselves,  and  to  entangle  our  con- 
sciences more  effectually  in  the  snares  of  hypocrisy. 
We  must  take  another  method,  and  this  method  will 
apply  to  the  more  usual  and  common  as  well  as  to  the 
grosser  sins,  of  forming  an  impartial  estimate  of  the 
evil  which  is  in  us.  Let  us  only  suppose,  by  an  effort 
of  the  imagination,  that  we  confessed  it  frankly  to  such 
and  such  a  person,  known  for  wisdom  and  goodness, — 
how  would  he  regard  us  ?  what  is  the  measure  of  our 
sin  in  his  esteem?   because  doubtless  that  should  be 


r  1  I  Of  Self'Exixminalion,  01 

tho  incasuro  of  it  in  ours  also.  Would  thero  not  be  a 
slirinking  from  revealing  to  such  an  one,  not  merely 
sins  of  a  gross  or  glaring  character,  but  such  as  the 
world  calls  trifles, — omissions  of  private  prayer,  little 
acts  of  dishonesty  in  trade  or  in  respect  of  an  einploy- 
ir's  property,  falsehoods  which  have  slipped  from  us  in 
the  ordinary  intercourse  of  life,  impure  or  sensual 
tlioughts,  allusions  in  conversation  which  might  lead  the 
mind  of  others  in  a  wrong  direction,  conceit  of  accom- 
[•lishments  and  abilities,  not  merely  suggested  (for  no 
man  is  accountable  for  the  suggestions  which  the  Devil 
makes  to  him),  but  secretly  fondled  and  nourished  in  the 
chamber  of  the  heart  ?  If  we  shrink  from  making  such 
disclosures  to  a  wise  and  good  man,  why  do  we  shrink  ? 
Because  we  feel  that  they  would  lower  us  in  his  esteem, 
and  we  have  such  a  regard  of  man's  esteem  that  we 
cannot  bear  to  be  placed  lower  in  it.  If  a  person  to 
whom  we  had  long  given  credit  for  a  blameless  and 
pious  life  should  come  to  us,  and  confess  the  very  sins 
to  which  we  ourselves  have  recently  given  way,  should 
assure  us  with  evident  sincerity  that,  however  good  the 
character  he  maintained,  yet  he  had  lived  for  such  and 
such  days  without  prayer,  had  practised  or  blinked  at 
little  dishonesties,  or  had  seriously  distorted  truth  on 
such  and  such  occasions,  we  might  (and,  no  doubt, 
should)  sympathize  with  the  distress  of  mind  which  the 
confession  evmced,  but  we  could  hardly  help  saying 
within  ourselves,  "  I  should  never  have  expected  this 
from  him.  I  should  have  thought  that  he  would  be 
true  to  principle,  when  the  stress  of  trial  came.'' 
Then,  if  this  be  the  estimate  which  we  should  form  of 
another,  who  had  committed  our  sins,  should  it  not  be 
tho  estimate  which  we  should  form  of  ourselves  ?  and 
is  not  the  comparatively  lenient  view  which  we  take  of 


92  Of  Self -Examination.      '  [pari 

our  own  case  due  to  that  self-partiality  which  leavens 
and  vitiates  our  w^hole  nature  ?  This  light  in  which  wc 
see  the  sin,  as  it  exists  in  our  neighbour,  is  the  true 
light  in  which  we  shall  see  it  at  the  last  day  ;  and  to 
see  it  now  in  that  light,  w^hile  at  the  same  time  we  be 
lieve  that  the  Blood  of  Christ  has  entirely  cancelled  it, 
is  the  great  end  of  Self-examination,  and  the  true  ful- 
filment of  the  precept :  "  Judge  therefore  yourselves, 
brethren,  that  ye  be  not  judged  of  the  Lord." 

But  the  probe  of  Self-examinatio'h  needs  to  be  ap- 
plied to  the  better,  as  well  as  to  the  worse  parts  of  our 
conduct.  The  natural  heart  is  an  adept  in  flatteries, 
not  only  suggesting  excuses  for  the  evil,  but  also  height- 
ening the  colours  of  the  good  which,  by  God's  grace,  is 
in  us.  When  conduct  stands  the  test  of  Self-examin- 
ation, the  motives  of  it  should  be  called  in  question. 
We  must  do  in  regard  of  ourselves  "what  we  may  never 
do  in  regard  of  others, — suspect  that  an  unsound  mo- 
tive may  underlie  a  fair  conduct.  It  is  something  to 
be  possessed  with  the  knowledge  that  our  actions  take 
their  whole  moral  colouring  from  the  motives  which 
prompt  them.  And  to  apply  this  knowledge  practical- 
ly to  our  own  good  actions,  and  thus  to  discriminate 
what  is  hollow  and  spurious  in  them  from  what  is  gen- 
uine, is  the  second  branch  of  the  great  duty  of  Self- 
examination.  By  way  of  giving  some  serviceable  hints 
for  this  investigation  of  our  motives,  ifmay  be  brief- 
ly remarked  that  of  the  religious  conduct  of  religious 
persons  a  good  part  is  usually  due  to  custom.  By  al- 
most all  of  us,  to  a  certain  extent,  the  Ordinances  of 
religion  are  attended  mechanically,  without  repulsion 
on  the  one  hand,  but  at  the  same  time  without  any 
effort  or  definite  aim  on  the  other.  Again;  certain 
proprieties  and  regularities  of  behavior,  whether  devo- 


ii]  Of  Self-Examination,  *X\ 

(ional  or  moral,  are  secured  by  deference  to  the  jwcvail- 
iiiLj  opinions  and  habits  of  society,  as  is  shown  some- 
times by  the  fact  that,  when  wo  are  m  foreign  parts, 
and  no  longer  under  this  restraint,  those  proprieties  and 
regularities  are  not  so  carefully  maintained.  Again ; 
many  good  actions  are  done,  more  or  less,  because  they 
are  in  keeping  with  a  man's  position,  conciliate  credit 
to  him, gain  him  the  praise  of  others.  Again;  works 
<f  usefulness  and  social  (and  even  religious)  improve- 
inont  may  be  undertaken,  more  or  less,  from  that  ac- 
vityof  mind  which  is  inherent  in  some  characters, 
cause  naturally  we  cannot  bear  to  be  standing  still, 
;md  are  constitutionally  unfitted  for  a  studious,  con- 
'  mplative  life.  In  a  real  work  of  benevolence  a  man 
iinot  but  find  a  very  pure  pleasure,  and  it  is  quite 
possible  that  this  pleasure,  and  not  any  thought  of 
Christ's  service  or  God's  glory,  may  be  the  main  mo- 
tive which  actuates  him  in  doing  it.  And  perhaps  some 
one  will  ask  whether  such  pleasure  te  not,  at  all  events, 
an  innocent  motive  of  action  1  To  which  the  answer 
is,  "  Perfectly  innocent ;  while  at  the  same  time  it  does 
not  go  the  length  of  being  gracious  or  supernatural." 
Nature  can  produce  such  a  motive ;  it  is  no  necessary 
mark  or  token  of  the  grace  of  God.  Gracious  or  su- 
pernatural motives  must  at  the  least  have  respect  to 
God  and  Christ,  and  the  world  to  come,  and  the  wel- 
fare of  the  soul.  The  highest  of  them,  defined  accord- 
ing to  its  principle,  is  the  love  of  Christ,  and,  accord- 
ing to  its  end,  the  glory  of  God.  But  it  is  probable, 
alas  !  that  very  few  actions,  even  of  the  best  men,  are 
prompted  exclusively  by  this  motive,  unalloyed  with 
any  sentiment  of  a  baser  kind.  Nay,  generally  speak- 
ing, few  indeed  are  the  actions  which  are  done  from  un- 
mixed motives,  whether  purely  good  or  purely  bad ; 


94  Of  Self-Examination.  [part 

and  our  wisdom  is  not  to  be  discouraged  if  we  find, 
upon  close  Self-examination,  as  we  shall  assuredly  find, 
that  much  which  looks  well  before  men  is  hollow  and 
defective  when  tried  by  the  touchstone  of  God's  Word. 
Suffice  it,  if  with  trembling  confidence  we  are  able  to 
make  out,  that  we  are  under  the  lead  of  Grace,  and  fol- 
lowing that  lead.  Motives  more  defecated  from  the 
dregs  of  nature,  more  purely  and  exclusively  gracious, 
will  come,  if  we  press  towards  the  mark,  with  a  greater 
measure  of  spiritual  attainment.  If  our  conscience 
should  affirm  upon  the  xohole  the  presence  in  us  of  ear- 
nest secret  prayer,  that  is  a  great  point  for  humble 
thankfulness ;  because  it  is  hard  to  see  how  secret 
prayer  can  be  prompted  by  any  but  a  religious  motive, 
or  how  it  can  fail  to  be  due  to  the  supernatural  Grace 
of  God. 

But  we  must  hasten  to  bring  these  thoughts  to  a 
close.  And  let  the  close  of  a  Chapter,  whose  great 
scope  has  been  to  'render  the  reader  dissatisfied  with 
himself,  be  devoted  to  assure  him  that  this  dissatisfac- 
tion will  avail  him  nothing,  except  as  it  leads  him  to  a 
perfect,  joyful,  and  loving  satisfaction  with  his  Saviour. 
To  have  probed  their  own  wounds,  and  pored  over  their 
own  inflamed  and  envenomed  frames,  would  have 
availed  the  poisoned  Israelites  nothing,  unless,  after 
such  a  survey  of  their  misery,  they  had  lifted  their 
eyes  to  the  brazen  serpent.  "  Look  unto  Him,"  there- 
fore, "  and  be  ye  healed."  Judged  by  the  criterion  of 
the  highest  motive,  nothing  can  be  more  miserably 
defective  that  the  best  righteousness  of  the  best  man. 
It  flows  indeed  from  the  Holy  Spirit  within  him ; 
but  even  the  influences  of  the  Spirit  derive  an  admix- 
ture of  infirmity  from  flowing  through  the  taint- 
ed  channels  'of  the   human   will    and   affections.     It 


II.]  ,-...,,,.y   rr^!,;ir.  95 

was  not  so  witii  uio  i.urci  .Ksus.  i  m*  iiaiurr  a>  iiitii 
He  took  of  tho  pure  Virgin  was  subject  to  all  the 
physical,  but  none  of  tho  moral,  infirmities  of  our 
nature.  His  heart  always  beat  true  to  God's  glory  and 
man's  salvation  ; — a  magnetic  needle  ever  pointing  to 
that  great  pole,  not  shaken  even  for  a  moment  from  its 
stedfastness  by  tho  vacillation  of  lower  and  less  perfect 
motives.  And  His  singleness  of  aim,  His  piety  and 
benevolence  of  conduct  is  ours, — God  be  praised, — not 
only  to  copy,  but  also  to  appropriate.  Take  it,  Chris- 
tian ;  it  is  thine.  Delight  in  it,  as  God  delights  in  it, 
and  thou  shalt  be  agreed  with  God,  and  shalt  stand 
before  Him  at  the  last  day  in  the  white  robe,  pure  as 
driven  snow ;  not  having  thine  own  rightcousness^ 
which  is  of  the  law,  but  that  which  is  by  the  faith  of 
Christ,  the  righteousness  which  is  of  God  by  faith. 


CHAPTER  V. 

OF    INTEECESSOEY    PEAYEE. 

"  They  made  Ihe  hreattpUxU:  ....  and  they  get  in  it  four  roum 
ofetone*  .*....  And  the  stone*  were  according  to  the  namt$ 
of  the  children  of  leraely  twelve^  according  to  their  namegy 
like  the  engravings  of  a  signet^  everg  one  with  hiM  name 
according  to  the  twdve  tribes J*^ — ^Exod.  xxxix.  9,  10,  14. 

The  Spouse  in  the  Canticles,  who  represents  the 
Church,  cries  to  the  heavenly  Bridegroom,  "  Set  me  as 
a  seal  upon  thine  heart."  Christ  answers  this  prayer 
by  interceding  for  each  of  His  people  in  Heaven,  by 
bearing  upon  His  heart  the  wants,  trials,  troubles,  sins 
of  each,  and  by  pleading  for  each  the  merits  of  his 


96  Of  Intercessory  Prayer.  [part 

most  precious  Death  and  Passion.  In  the  seventeenth 
chapter  of  St.  John's  Gospel,  which  contains  the  great 
high-priestly  prayer  of  Our  Lord,  we  find  Him  com- 
mencing this  office  of  Intercession.  "  I  pray  for  them," 
says  He  of  His  disciples.  The  Intercession  then  com- 
menced ;  but  it  has  been  continuing  ever  since ;  it  is 
prolonged  through  all  time ;  it  embraces  not  the 
Apostles  only,  but  every  soul  of  the  redeemed.  Of  this 
Intercession  the  breastplate  of  the  Jewish  high  priest 
supplies  a  beautiful  figure.  In  the*  breastplate  there 
were  twelve  precious  stones,  arranged  in  four  rows  of 
three,  upon  each  of  which  was  written  the  name  of  one 
of  the  twelve  tribes.  The  breastplate,  of  course,  when 
worn,  would  rest  upon  the  priest's  heart, — would  rise 
and  sink  with  every  palpitation  of  the  breast.  When 
he  appeared  before  God  in  his  full  sacerdotal  attire, 
there  would  be  the  twelve  names  upon  his  heart, 
indicative  of  his  love  and  care  for  the  whole  people  of 
Israel.  Names  I  the  names  of  those  with  whom  we  are 
well  acquainted,  how  much  they  imply!  how  true  to 
nature  is  that  Scripture  idiom,  or  phraseology,  which 
makes  the  name  stand  for  the  whole  character !  Let 
but  the  name  of  a  person  familiar  to  us  be  mentioned 
in  our  hearing,  and  what  an  instantaneous  rush  takes 
place  into  the  mind  of  the  personality  of  the  man, — of 
his  temperament,  manners,  features,  way  of  thinking 
and  acting,  in  short  of  all  his  physical  and  mental 
peculiarities  1  The  names  upon  the  high  priest's  breast- 
plate betoken  the  individuality  of  Christ's  Intercession 
for  his  people.  Not  a  sparrow  is  forgotten  before 
God.  And  not  a  single  want  or  woe  of  a  single  soul  is 
forgotten  by  the  God-man,  when  He  intercedes. 

It  was  observed,  in  a  recent  Chapter,  that  every 
Christian  is  in  a  certain  important  sense  a  priest,  con- 


Of  Tntercestsory  PraykfiJ  Tt'f  T  T*  *  .  0^^^ 


s»  crated   in   Baptisii  c'onfirmatnm*  t()  olTrr  \\\\ 

I  >irituul  sacrifices  to  CJod.  Accordingly  c^ 
i.nist  intercede,  because  Intercession  is  t.m-  i.i  ikt> 
ju'icstly  functions.  The  Intercession  of  the  great  High 
Priest  fur  the  whole  Cimrch  is  ever  rising,  like  a  cloud 
of  fragrant  incense,  to  the  Throne  of  Grace.  And  it 
should  be  our  ambition  to  throw,  each  one  for  himself, 
our  little  grain  of  incense  into  II  is  censer.  The  prayer, 
which  is  oflered  by  tlie  Head  in  Heaven  for  the  whole 
Body,  should  bo  re-ochood  by  the  members  hero  on 
earth. 

The  consideration  of  Intercessory  Prayer  properly 
follows  that  of  Self-examination.  They  are  at  the 
opposite  poles  of  the  Christian's  devotional  exercises. 
Self-examination  is  the  most  interior,  as  Intercession  is 
the  most  exterior,  of  those  exercises.  The  one  is  a 
retiring  into  oneself  and  shutting  out  the  whole  world ; 
the  other  is  a  going  forth  in  sympathy  and  love  towards 
other  men, — an  association  of  oneself  with  their  wants, 
wishes,  and  trials.  Hence  these  exercises  are  very 
necessary  to  keep  one  another  in  check.  The  healthy 
action  of  the  mind  requires  that  both  shall  continually 
be  practised.  By  undue  and  overstrained  self-inspection 
tlie  mind  is  apt  to  become  moi'bid  and  depressed,  and 
I  breed  scruples,  which  tease  and  harass  without 
producing  any  real  fruit.  The  man  becomes  a  vale- 
tudinarian in  religion,  full  of  himself,  his  symptoms,- 
his  ailments,  the  delicacy  of  his  moral  health ;  and 
valetudinarians  are  always  a  plague,  not  only  to  them- 
selves, but  to  every  body  connected  with  them.  One 
tonic  adapted  to  remedy  this  desponding,  timid,  nervous 
state  of  mind,  is  an  active  sympathy,  such  as  comes 
out  in  Intercessory  Prayer,  with  the  wants  and  trials  of 
oihers,  a  sympathy  based  upon  that  precept  of  the  holy 


98  Of  Intercessory  Prayer.  [paet 

Apostle's,  "  Look  not  every  man  on  his  own  things,  but 
every  man  also  on  the  things  of  others." 

Observe,  first,  the  great  importance  attached  to  this 
duty  in  Holy  Scripture,  and  in  that  which  is  a  faithful 
uninspired  echo  of  Holy  Scripture,  the  Prayer  Book 
In  the  Old  Testament  you  find  Abraham  winning  b^f 
Intercession  the  preservation  of  the  cities  of  the  plain 
on  condition — a  condition,. alas  !  not  fulfilled — that  ten 
righteous  were  found  therein.  In  the  New  Testament 
you  find  the  early  Church  winning  by  Intercessory 
Prayer  the  preservation  of  the  life  of  St.  Peter  from  the 
sword  of  Herod,  on  which  life  was  suspended,  humanly 
speaking,  the  existence  of  the  infant  community.  But 
let  us  come  at  once  to  the  Lord's  Prayer,  as  containing 
by  implication  the  most  striking  of  all  precepts  on  the 
subject.  If  the  Lord's  Prayer  is  to  be  the  great  model 
of  Prayer,  as  it  surely  is,  how  much  Intercession  ought 
not  our  Prayers  to  contain !  This  extraordinary 
Prayer  is  so  constructed,  that  it  is  impossible  to  use  it, 
without  praying  for  all  other  Christians  as  well  as 
ourselves.  Intercession,  instead  of  being  a  clause  added 
on  to  it,  is  woven  into  its  very  texture.  Break  off  the 
minutest  fragment  you  please,  and  you  will  find  inter- 
cession in  it.  Oil  and  water  will  not  coalesce ;  pour 
them  together,  and  the  one  will  remain  on  the  surface 
of  the  other.  But  wine  and  water  interpenetrate  one 
another ;  in  every  drop  of  the  mixed  liquid  there  are 
both  elements.  When  we  pray  for  others,  we  usually 
add  some  paragraphs  at  the  close  of  our  ordinary 
prayers,  distinct  from  them,  as  oil,  though  placed  upon 
water,  remains  distinct.  But  in  the  Lord's  own  model 
Prayer,  the  Intercession  and  the  petitions  for  self  inter 
penetrate  one  another ;  the  petitioner,  who  uses  it  ver- 
hatim  et  literatim^  never  employs  the  singular  number. 


II. J  Of  Intercessory  Prayer,  99 

A  wonderful  contrivance  indeed,  by  which  the  Author 
secures  a  more  important  end  than  we  perhaps  are  apt 
to  think  of.  The  prayer,  it  must  be  remembered,  was 
given  as  a  kind  of  watchword  for  Christians,  by  the 
adoption  and  use  of  which  they  should  be  distinguished 
from  the  disciples  of  other  Rabbis,  such  as  John  the 
r>aptist, — "  as  a  sign  of  profession,  and  mark  of  dif- 
iVrence,"  to  accommodate  the  language  of  our  Articles 
to  the  purpose,  "  whereby  Christian  men  might  bo 
discerned  from  others  that  bo  not  christened."  Now 
this  sign  or  watchword  must  necessarily  have  Love 
woven  into  its  very  texture ;  for  what  was  the  appointed 
note,  whereby  the  world  was  to  know  disciples  of  Jesus 
from  those  who  were  not  His  disciples  ?  His  own 
words  answer  that  question  very  pointedly  :  "  By  this 
sliall  all  men  know  that  ye  are  my  disciples,  if  ye  have 
love  one  to  another"  Then  in  the  very  watchword  of 
the  Disciples  there  must  be  Love.  And  this  could  not 
be  more  strikingly  contrived  than  by  drawing  up  the 
watchword  in  such  terms  that  no  man  could  use  it  as  a 
prayer  for  himself,  without  at  the  same  time  interceding 
for  his  brother  Christians. 

Of  the  testimony  of  our  Liturgy  to  the  duty  of  In- 
tercessory Prayer  we  need  only  say  that,  after  the 
j^enitential  introduction  of  Morning  and  Evening 
Prayer,  there  are,  as  a  general  rule,  only  three  collects 
which  supplicate  blessings  for  the  congregation  then 
worshipping; — all  that  follows  except  the  prayer  of 
St.  Chrysostom  is  Intercession.  The  latter  and  longer 
half  of  the  Litany  is  intercessory ;  and  the  Communion 
Service,  after  the  Oflfertory,  passes  on  to  the  "  Pray- 
er for  the  whole  state  of  Christ's  Church  militant  here 
on  earth."  It  appears  that  the  compilers  kept  care- 
fully in  view  the  inspired  precept  given  for  the  guidance 


100  •  Of  Intercessory  Prayer.  [rAiii 

of  public  Prayers,  "  I  exhort  that  first  of  all,"  (it  may 
mean  first  in  point  of  order,  or  first  in  point  of  impor- 
tance, or  both,  but,  any  how,  "  first  of  all,")  "  supplica- 
tions, prayers,  intercessions,  and  giving  of  thanks,  be 
made  for  all  men ;  for  kings,  and  for  all  that  are  in 
authority  ;  that  we  may  lead  a  quiet  and  peaceable  life 
in  all  godliness  and  honesty." 

Thus  plain,  then,  is  the  duty  of  Intercessory  Prayer. 
And  the  grounds  of  it  are  equally  plain.  The  duty  is 
based  upon  the  fact  that  men  are  one  body,  and 
members  one  of  another.  Whether  in  Nature  or  in 
Grace,  a  man  is  essentially  the  member  of  a  family.  In 
his  moral  nature  he  has  certain  affections,  such  as  bene- 
volence and  compassion,  which  have  reference  to  others, 
and  show  clearly  that,  in  the  design  of  the  Creator,  he 
is  no  isolated  creature.  And  in  his  spiritual  nature  too, 
— in  his  constitution  by  Grace  and  in  Christ, — there 
are  brotherly  kindness  and  charity,  which  show  that  in 
the  new  creature  also  man  is  one  Body.  And  if  this  be 
so,  the  weal  and  the  woe  of  other  men,  of  other 
Christians,  must  be,  to  a  certain  extent,  our  weal  and 
woe,  cannot  fail  ultimately  to  reach  us.  The  different 
parts  of  the  living  frame  of  man  have  a  wonderful  sym- 
pathy with  one  another  :  "  Whether  one  member  suffer, 
all  the  members  suffer  with  it ;  or  one  member  be 
honoured,  all  the  members  rejoice  with  it."  And  so,  if 
a  blow  is  struck  at  the  body  politic  either  of  the  State 
or  of  the  Church,  in  some  extremity  of  that  body  which 
is  very  remote  from  ourselves,  the  blow  cannot  fail  to 
vibrate  through  the  v/hole  frame,  until  it  reaches  even 
\is  in  our  distant  corner.  Few  prayers  of  the  Liturgy 
are  regarded  with  such  general  indifference, — few,  1 
fear,  would  be  more  readily  dispensed  with  by  the 
worshippers, — than    those    for    all  in   civil   authority 


II.]  Of  Intercessory  Prayer,  101 

and  tho  clergy  ;  but  let  any  reasonable  person  ask  him 
self,  if  he  desire  to  see  the  necessity  of  such  prayers, 
whether  he  rcall}*  thinks  that  a  general  abandonment 
of  these  exalted  functionaries  by  the  Providence  and 
(trace  of  God  would  prove  in  the  end  indifferent  to 
himself.  Suppose  tho  whole  body  of  our  rulers  in 
Church  and  State,  to  bo  utterly  godless,  (and  godless 
they  must  bo  without  the  Grace  of  God,)  could  such  a 
state  of  things  be  of  little  moment  to  me,  because  I 
l.appcn  to  bo  at  the  lower  extremity  of  the  social 
scale?  Would  not  the  ungodliness  in  high  places 
reach  mc,  though  in  a  low  place,  through  a  thou- 
sand avenues?  If  in  no  other  way,  would  not  God 
send  judgments  upon  tho  nation  and  the  Church, 
for  tho  ungodliness  of  their  rulers?  If  then  each  of 
us  has  a  real  interest^ in  the  moral  and  spiritual  wel- 
fare of  tho  community,  it  must  bo  expedient  for  our- 
selves that  we  should  pray  for  the  whole  community, 
and  especially  for  those  who  before  God  arc  its  Repre- 
sentatives. But,  expediency  altogether  apart,  if  a 
man's  relations  to  others  arc,  as  wo  have  shown,  bound 
up  in  his  own  nature,  he  must  surely  bring  his  rela- 
tions and  sympathies  with  him,  when  he  appears  bo- 
fore  God.  Otherwise,  what  does  he  do  but  virtually 
say  to  God,  "Thou  didst  create  mc  a  member  of  a 
family,  to  love  and  to  care  for  my  brethren ;  but  hero 
I  stand  before  Thee  in  all  the  isolation  of  my  own 
selfishness  ?  " 

And  yet^  though  i;oth  tho  duty  of  Intercessory 
Prayer  and  the  grounds  of  it  aro  thus  clear,  there  is 
perhaps  no  part  of  devotion  which  good  Christians  more 
systematically  neglect.  ^May  it  not  be  said  that  com- 
monly oven  devout  persons  feel  very  littlo  interest  in 
any  Intercessions,  except  such  as  touch  their  own  im- 


102  Of  Intercessory  Prayer.  [pari 

mediate  circle  of  family  and  friends  1  While  perhaps 
there  are  some,  who  of  set  purpose  hug  a  sort  of 
spiritual  selfishness,  and  would  not  hesitate  to  avow 
that  for  them  the  personal  question  of  their  own  sal- 
vation is  indeed  the  whole  of  religion. 

Now  can  we  analyse  this  feeling  of  disinclination  to 
a  religious  exercise,  at  once  so  reasonable  and  so  scrip- 
tural ?  It  seems  to  be  a  mixed  feeling,  having  in  it  a 
good  and  a  bad  element.  Some,  no  doubt,  shrink  from 
Intercessory  Prayer,  under  a  feeling  that,  as  coming 
from  them,  it  would  be  presumptuous.  "  What  am  I, 
that  I  should  plead  the  cause  of  others, — I,  who  have 
so  much  to  ask  for  myself,  and  who  have  no  native 
right  to  ask  at  all  ?  Or  how  can  I  think  that  prayers 
from  me,  like  those  from  righteous  Abraham,  can  win 
any  thing  from  God  for  my  brethren  ?"  The  feeling 
is  good,  but  mistaken  in  its  application.  In  the  first 
place,  what  God  expressly  commands  us  to  do,  it  can 
never  be  a  presumption  to  do.  If  by  His  holy  Apostle 
He  has  taught  us  to  make  prayers  and  supplications, 
and  to  give  thanks  for  all  men,  His  command  surely  is 
enough  to  exempt  such  prayers  from  the  charge  of  pre- 
sumptuousness.  Had  He  not  commanded  them,  such 
a  scruple  might  reasonably  find  place.  Prayers  for  the 
dead  are  not  commanded, — nay,  they  are  implicitly  dis- 
couraged by  the  suggestions  made  in  Holy  Scripture 
that  the  state  of  the  dead  admits  of  no  change ;  and 
therefore  to  offer  such  prayers  is  presumption,  because 
they  are  beyond  the  warrant  of  God's  express  will  and 
Word.  But  prayers  for  the  living  are,  as  we  have  seen, 
made  obligatory  upon  the  disciples  of  Jesus  Christ,  by 
the  very  form  of  the  model  Prayer  which  he  gave  us 
to  use. 

Next,  as  regards  the  imagined  feebleness  and  impo- 


11.  J  Of  Intercessory  Prayer,  103 

toncy  of  our  prayers  for  others, — a  feeling  whicli  looks 
humble  and  plausible  enough  on  the  surface, — we  must 
inquire  how  far  it  may  possibly  resolve  itself  into  a 
halfscoptical  question  as  to  the  efficacy  of  Prayer  alto- 
irother.  And  if  tliero  be  in  our  minds  no  doubt  on  this 
licad,  wo  should  then  remember  that  our  intercessions 
do  not  stand  alone,  but  that  in  oHcring  them,  wo  co- 
operate with  the  whole  Church,  and,  above  all,  with 
Christ  the  Head  of  the  Church.     Do  not  omit  to  cal- 

ulato  the  power  of  combination.  Many  very  slight 
muscular  efforts,  put  forth  imperceptibly,  will  create, 
it  is  said,  force  enough  to  turn  a  heavy  piece  of  furni- 
ture. The  smallest  contributions  made  by  ^  vast  num- 
ber of  people  would  soon  fill  a  monarch's  treasury. 
Let,  then,  thy  feeble  intercession  be  put  forth  to  move 
tlie  will  of  God  to  show  mercy  to  others.  Other  inter- 
cessions shall  meet  it  at  the  throne  of  grace,  which  shall 
convert  it  into  a  strong  force.  Yea,  His  shall  certainly 
meet  it,  which  is  singly  and  by  itself  the  strongest  of 
all  forces  with  God, — powerful  at  all  times  to  bend  His 
Will,  and  to  impetrate  from  Him  the  highest  blessings. 
Rhoda,  the  damsel  who  admitted  St.  Peter  to  the  house 

f  Mary  the  mother  of  Mark,  was  one  of  those  who 
were  gathered  together  praying  for  the  Apostle's  deliv- 
erance. Her  prayer  was  one  of  those  which  won  from 
God  the  preservation  of  this  chief  Apostle. 

But  in  our  reluctance  to  Intercessory  Prayer  wo 
nmst  acknowledge,  if  we  be  candid  with  ourselves,  the 
presence  of  a  bad  feeling,  a  great  want  of  sympathy 
with  others, — or,  in  other  words,  a  lack  of  love.  We 
feel  no  interest  in  them,  and  therefore  do  not  care  to 
pray  for  them.  Now,  so  far  as  this  is  the  case  with  us, 
we  must  consider,  first^  that  such  selfishness  invalidates 
and  empties  of  efficacy  our  prayers  for  ourselves.     Our 


104  Of  Intercessory  Prayer,  [patit 

Saviour  in  His  comments  on  the  cursing  of  the  fig-tree, 
lays  down,  you  will  find,  two  great  conditions  of  success 
in  Prayer, — the  first,  that  we  shall  pray  in  faith ;  the 
second,  that  we  shall  pray  in  love.  How  does  he  pray 
in  love,  who  in  his  prayer  looks  only  on  his  own  things, 
and  not  on  those  of  others  ?  Can  he  hope  to  win  any 
thing  from  God,  while  he  is  in  a  mind  so  difTerent  from 
that  of  God  ?  It  is  a  great  truth,  reader,  that  if  we  de- 
sire to  gain  any  thing  from  the  Most  High,  our  minds 
must  be  set  more  or  less  to  the  same  key  as  His.  If 
two  harps  be  strung  to  the  same  key,  but  not  other- 
wise, when  one  of  them  is  struck,  the  other  gives  a 
responsive  sound.  There  must  be  some  secret  affinity 
in  nature  between  the  lightning  of  heaven  and  the  con- 
ductor which  draws  it  down, — between  the  steel  and 
the  magnet  which  attracts  it, — between  the  light  sub- 
stances and  the  chafed  glass  or  sealing-wax,  towards 
which  they  leap  up  and  cling.  And  in  Grace  there 
must  be  a  secret  affinity  between  God  and  the  soul  (this 
affinity  itself  being  the  effect  of  Grace)  before  the  soul 
can  lay  hold  of  God's  Will,  and  draw  out  a  blessing 
from  Him,  yea,  draw  God  Him.self  into  it. 

This  affinity  stands  in  Love.  God,  the  great  Father, 
loves  all  men.  He  will  have  all  men  to  be  saved,  and 
to  come  to  the  knowledge  of  the  truth.  He  sent  His 
Son  to  save  all. — Redemption  being,  as  far  as  His  will 
and  intention  are  concerned,  co-extensive  with  the  hu- 
man race.  Therefore  he  who  prays  with  the  largest 
sympathy,  he  who  embraces  in  his  prayer  the  widest 
circle  of  his  fellow-creatures,  is  most  in  sympathy  with 
the  mind  of  God,  when  he  prays, — has  the  key  of  God's 
heart,  and  therefore  the  key  of  God's  treasury.  And 
as  for  him  who  prays  in  the  total  absence  of  this  sym- 
pathy,  does  it  not  stand  to  reason  that  God  must  re 


u.]  Of  Intercessory  Prayer,  105 

main  inulc  to  suoli  u  iiiau  1  Suppose  an  entire  absence 
from  a  petitioner's  mind  of  the  fraternal  feeling  towards 
fellow-nien  and  follow-Christinns ;  and  what  does  it 
seem  to  imply,  but  an  absence  of  filial  feeling?  Is  not 
the  filial  feeling  the  correlative  of  the  fraternal,  accord- 
ing to  that  word  of  the  Apostle ;  "  Every  one  that 
loveth  Him  that  begat,  lovcth  him  also,  that  is  begotten 
of  llim  1"  Thus  are  the  two  first  words  of  the  Prayer 
of  Prayers  bound  together  in  an  indissoluble  wedlock ; 
and  he  who  cannot  in  sympathy  and  love  say  "  Our," 
cannot^  in  faith  and  trust,  say  "  Father." 

Then  pray  for  others,  if  you  have  not  yet  done  so, 
uniting  with  your  prayers,  where  it  is  possible  to  do  so 
and  opportunity  oflcrs,  that  kindly  interest  in  their  con- 
cerns, which  attests  the  sincerity  of  your  intercessions. 
Pray  particularly  for  those  who  have  done  you  wrong  ; 
nothing  tends  more  to  engender  that  frame  of  mind 
which  is  essential  to  success.  Do  not  be  baflled  by 
the  thought  that  explicitncss  of  request  is  always  neces- 
sary. The  mention  of  the  name,  the  thought  of  the 
I)erson  before  the  Throne  of  Grace,  the  simple  com- 
mendation of  him  by  Prayer  to  God's  mercy  and  bless- 
ing, is  a  great  point  gained,  and  in  numerous  cases  is 
all  that  can  be  done.  If  we  much  desire  explicitncss, 
and  yet  not  know  exactly  into  what  form  to  throw  the 
petition,  the  Holy  Spirit,  the  Gift  of  gifts,  which  in- 
volves holiness  and  happiness  both  here  and  hereafter, 
may  always  be  petitioned  for  on  behalf  of  all.  But, 
after  all,  there  is  much  in  that  beautiful  word  of  our 
Prayer  for  all  Conditions  of  Men,  "  that  it  may  please 
Thee  to  comfort  and  relieve  them  according  to  their 
several  necessities,"^  God  understands  those  necessities 
perfectly  ;  and  we  may  safely  ask  Him  to  supply  them 
all,  according  to  the  understanding  which  He  has  of 


100  Of  Devotional  Reading.  [paet 

them. ill  His  Infinite  Mind.  You  may  do  for  your 
friend,  or  your  relative,  the  same  kind  office  which  those 
interested  in  the  poor  paralytic  in  the  Gospel  did  for 
him, — bring  him  in  the  arms  of  Prayer,  and  lay  him 
down  in  his  helplessness  before  Jesus,  thus  silently 
commending  him  to  the  pity  and  sympathy  of  the  In- 
finite Love.  You  may  have  many  thus  to  commend, 
parents,  brothers,  sisters,  colleagues,  helpmates,  friends^ 
children  and  godchildren,  masters,  servants,  pastorS; 
parishioners,  and  may  commend  them  all  by  the  sim. 
pie,  quiet,  devout  recitation  of  their  names.  -Yes,  thou 
mystical  Aaron,  washed  for  thy  sacred  functions  in  the 
laver  of  regeneration,  and  clothed  in  the  Eighteousness 
of  Christ,  forget  not  to  wear  thy  breastplate,  when  thou 
goest  in  to  offer  up  a  spiritual  sacrifice, — neglect  not  to 
exhibit  silently  before  God,  graven  upon  thy  heart,  the 
names  of  all  thou  lovest ;  yea,  be  an  intercessor,  as 
far  as  in  thee  lies,  for  all  the  people ;  for  of  what  mem- 
ber of  the  human  family  can  it  be  said  that  he  has 
no  claim  whatever  upon  thy  sympathy  and  kind 
offices  1 


CHAPTER  VI. 

OF  DEVOTIONAL  READING. 

"  And  Elisha  died,  and  they  hiried  him.  And  the  hands  of  the 
Moabites  invaded  the  land  at  the  coming  in  of  the  year. 

"  And  it  came  to  pass,  as  they  were  burying  a  man,  thai,  behold, 
they  spied  a  band  of  men ;  and  they  cast  the  man  into  the 
sepulchre  of  Elisha;  and  when  the  man  teas  let  down,  and 
touched  the  bones  of  Elisha,  he  revived,  and  stood  up  on  his 
feet:'— 2  Kings  xiii.  20,  21. 

We  Protestants  do  not  attach  virtue  to  relics,  in  the 
ordinary  sense  of  that  term  ;  but  there  is  a  sense,  in 


ii.J  Of  Devotional  Reading,  107 

which  wo  may  ro^isonably  enough  do  so.  Ivelics  an; 
remains  ;  and  while  wo  believe  that  no  virtue  resides  in 
the  material  remains  of  a  good  man,  we  do  not  there- 
fore exempt  from  cfticacy  his  mental  or  spiritual  remains. 
If  he  has  leil  behind  him  in  writing  the  effusions  of  a 
devout  mind,  wo  believe  that  these  writings,  by  which 
"  ho  being  dead  yet  speaketh,"  often  exercise  an  influ- 
ence for  good  upon  readers,  long  afler  ho  himself  has 
passed  away,  and  that  thus  the  miracle  wrought  by  the 
bones  of  Elisha  is  continually  repeating  itself  in  the 
experience  of  the  Church.  Souls  are  being  quickened 
and  edified  by  the  instrumentality  of  books,  which 
books  arc  all  that  remain  of  their  authors.  A  holy 
man,  who  lives  in  habitual  communion  with  God,  has  a 
living  influence  on  his  generation,  and  also,  if  he  be  a 
writer,  an  influence  on  posterity.  Ilis  living  influence 
may  be  compared  to  the  miracles  wrought  by  the 
shadow  of  St.  Peter,  or  by  the  handkerchiefs  and  aprons 
brought  to  the  sick  from  the  body  of  St.  Paul.  The 
influence  exercised  by  his  writings  after  death,  may  be 
fitly  compared  to  the  posthumous  miracle  recorded  in 
the  text,  a  miracle  which  stands  alone  in  Holy  Scrip- 
ture, and  in  which  it  is  clearly  desirable  to  find  some 
moral  significance. 

We  shall  speak  first  of  the  power  of  devotional 
reading,  and  then  give  some  practical  suggestions  for 
the  conduct  of  this  exercise. 

I.  (1)  The  power  of  devotional  reading  maybe  seen 
from  considering  the  effect,  which  constant  association 
with  the  wise  and  good  would  naturally  exert  upon  the 
mind.  It  is  an  axiomatic  truth  which  has  passed  into 
an  inspired  proverb  :  "  He  that  walkcth  with  wise  men 
shall  be  wise."  Mere  common  intercourse  with  wise 
men,  however, — ^the  merely  being  thrown  with  them  in 


108  Of  Devotional  Reading.  [pakt 

ordinary  society, — might  not,  for  various  reasons,  be 
productive  of  much  good.  The  time  might  pass  in 
remarks  upon  those  trite  and  superficial  topics,  which 
are  the  necessary  introduction  to  something  deeper 
and  better.  We  might  not  be  able  to  get  at  the 
wise  man's  mind.  He  might  be  reserved  in  communi- 
cating his  sentiments,  or  we  might  be  awkward,  and 
wanting  in  the  tact  to  draw  them  out.  Comparatively 
few  persons  have  the  gift,  for  a  gift  it  is,  of  lively  table- 
talk  on  subjects  of  secular  interest,  llow  much  fewer 
possess  such  a  gift  on  religious  and  spiritual  topics  ! 
There  are  nine  chances  to  one  against  your  coming  into 
contact  with  the  mind  of  a  devout  person  by  merely 
being  thrown  with  him  in  company.  To  see  him  in 
society  is  a  different  thing  from  seeing  him  in  his 
closet,  pursuing  his  meditations,  and  mixing  Prayer 
with  them.  The  nearest  approach  you  can  make  to 
seeing  him  thus,  and  it  is  a  very  near  approach  indeed, 
is  by  reading  his  works  of  piety.  In  them  is  mirrored 
his  best  mind  at  his  best  moments.  Words  committed 
to  the  press  are  maturely  considered  and  pruned  of  all 
excrescences,  whereas  in  conversation  there  is  ne- 
cessarily much  that  is  extemporaneous,  and  still 
more  that  is  redundant.  Suppose  now  that  we 
were  made  privy  to  much  of  the  interior  life  of  men 
eminent  for  piety, — that  they  communicated  to  us  the 
counsel,  which  was  the  result  of  thier  experience  in 
religion,  gave  us  their  fresh  thoughts  upon  the  Holy 
Scriptures,  threw  out  suggestions  to  us  to  help  us  in 
leading  a  holy  life,  made  in  our  hearing  remarks  which 
had  a  certain  heavenly  savour  and  gave  a  relish  for 
spiritual  things, — suppose  that  they  were  constantly  by 
our  sides  with  these  counsels,  thoughts,  suggestions, 
and  remarks, — could  we  fail  of  deriving  benefit  from 


u.]  Of  Devotional  Readinff,  1(H> 

our  assootation  with  thorn? — must  nut  (nir  minds, 
almost  according  to  their  natural  constitution  and  indo 
pendently  of  the  opemtion  of  Divine  Gi-acc,  insensibly 
take  a  tinge  from  theirs'?  Shall  it  not  bo  that  some 
glowing  sentiment  of  theirs,  thrown  out  like  a  hot 
ember  from  the  fire  of  their  zeal,  shall  light  upon  com- 
bustible material  in  our  hearts,  and  kindle  there  the 
il  i'Mi>  of  Divino  love?  Ollen  has  the  opposite  effect 
i>.  rii  produced  by  tales  and  poems,  which  have  had  a 
malignant  tendency  to  stimulate  the  worst  passions. 
If  bad  books  arc  a  very  powerful  engine  in  the  liands 
of  the  Devil,  as  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  they  are, 
shall  not  good  and  holy  books  bo  an  equally  powerful 
agency  in  the  Economy  of  Grace  ?  No  one  who  has 
really  studied  personal  religion,  who  has  cultivated  the 
piety  of  the  closet  as  distinct  from  that  of  the  platform, 
will  hesitate  to  acknowledge  that  they  are  so. 

(2)  But  the  power  of  good  books  may  be  seen  from 
another  very  important  consideration  respecting  them. 
Spiritual  reading  has  to  a  certain  extent — more  entirely 
for  some  minds  than  for  others,  but  to  a  certain  extent 
for  all  minds — t^iken  the  place  of  preaching :  this  has 
como  about  in  the  order  of  God's  Providence,  which  has 
ordained  the  diflTusion  of  literature  through  the  press, 
just  as  it  has  ordained  many  le^s  important  movements. 
Without  at  all  denying  that  oral  teaching  has  still  cer- 
tain great  prerogatives  over  teaching  by  books,  that  in 
voice,  and  manner,  and  generally  in  the  influences 
which  go  to  make  up  public  speaking,  there  is  some- 
thing electric  and  sympathetic,  which  no  mere  dead 
letter  can  ever  supply, — and  without  denying  also  that 
the  form  of  Cliristian  teaching,  which  is  closest  lo  tho 
primitive  and  Apostolic  model,  is  more  likely  to  have 
God's  blessing  upon  it  than  a  mere  modern  form, — it 


110  Of  Devotional  Reading.  [pakt 

would  yet  be  preposterous  in  the  highest  degree  to  say 
that  we  are  as  dependent  for  religious  instruction  upon 
oral  teaching,  as  the  early  Church  was.  We  see  no 
thing  derogatory  to  the  Christian  Pulpit  in  acknow- 
ledging that  God,  in  modern  times,  causes  some, 
though  not  all,  of  its  work  to  be  done  by  religious 
literature.  Such  an  acknowledgment,  if  rightly  under- 
stood, does  not  degrade  the  pulpit,  but  exalts  the 
literature.  And  here  we  come  across  a  thought  which 
must  reappear  presently  in  the  shape  of  practical  advice. 
The  reading  of  spiritual  books  may  be  regarded,  and 
ought  to  be  regarded,  more  or  less,  in  the  light  of  a 
Divine  Ordinance.  That  Preaching  is  an  ordinance 
would  be  generally  admitted  by  Protestants,  and  indeed 
must  be  admitted  by  all  who  take  the  New  Testament 
as  their  guide.  The  only  error  which  is  sometimes 
allowed  to  cloud  a  little  the  clearness  of  the  truth  so 
admitted,  is  the  narrowing  the  meaning  of  the  word 
Preaching  to  a  formal  discourse  delivered  by  a  minister 
in  the  course  of  Divine  worship.  Instead  of  imposing 
upon  the  word  this  somewhat  technical  and  cramped 
sense,  take  Preaching  as  being  the  communication  of 
Divine  knowledge  to  men  through  the  instrumentality 
of  men ;  and  then  Preaching  is  in  the  fullest  sense  an 
Ordinance,  yea,  one  of  the  chiefest  Ordinances  of  the 
Gospel.  "  Faith  cometh  by  hearing,  and  hearing  by 
the  Word  of  God."  It  is  an  Ordinance  for  the  illus- 
tration, exposition,  and  application  of  Holy  Scripture  to 
the  conscience.  Instruction  of  this  kind  is  essential  to 
vital  religion ;  it  is  the  oil  of  the  spiritual  lamp,  which 
keeps  Prayer  burning.  Only  admit  that  the  power  of 
Preaching  may  come  to  some — nay,  to  all,  more  or  less, 
— through  a  written,  as  well  as  through  a  spoken  word. 
Only  admit  thfit  there  may  be  a  hearing  in  the  closet 


11. 1  Of  Devotional  Reading,  1 1 1 

with  the  inward,  as  in  the  Church  with  the  outward  car. 
But  then  this  admission  involves  the  duty,  which  wo 
arc  all  so  slow  to  fulfil,  of  reading,  no  less  than  hcar- 
iiifi,  witli  all  the  solemnity  of  a  devotional  exercise.  If 
it  is  wrong  to  bo  otherwise  than  seriously  attentivo  to 
Preaching  in  Church,  where  the  preacher  is  a  living 
man,  it  is  equally  wrong  to  be  otherwise  than  seriously 
attentive  to  Preaching  in  the  closet,  where  the  preacher 
is  perhaps  a  dead  one.  And  we  doubt  not  that  if  good 
Christians  were  persuaded  that  some  of  the  power  and 
dignity  of  Preaching  now  rests  upon  the  reading  of 
good  books,  and  if  accordingly  they  read  them  with  the 
same  seriousness  of  spirit,  and  desire  of  edification,  with 
which  they  listen,  or  try  to  listen,  to  formal  Sermons, 
such  books  would  bo  largely  blessed  to  quicken  in  them 
the  spiritual  life,  and  to  advance  the  Kingdom  of  God 
in  their  hearts. 

II.  But  what  suggestions  may  be  given  as  to  the 
conduct  of  this  exercise  1  First,  a  discrimination  must 
bo  used  in  the  choice  of  books.  All  good  books  are 
not  equally  attractive,  and  therefore  not  equally  pro- 
fitable, to  all  minds.  It  is  with  spiritual  very  much 
as  it  is  with  bodily  food.  A  man  by  a  little  experience, 
by  a  few  trials,  and  by  a  short  insight  into  his  own 
constitution,  soon  gets  to  know  that  this  or  that  is  bad 
for  him,  that  this  or  that,  on  the  other  hand,  is  for 
liim  digestible  and  wholesome.  I  say,  for  him. 
Probably  it  would  be  a  mistake  in  medicine  to  assert 
that,  independently  of  the  constitution,  circumstances, 
and  temperament  of  the  patient,  any  particular  food 
was  digestible  or  the  reverse.  And  certainly  it  is  a 
grand  mistake  in  Theology  to  suppose  that  all  the  pro- 
ductions of  devout  writers  are  equally  serviceable  to 
overy  class  of  minds.  It  is  notoriously  the  reverse. 
In  His  Holy   Scriptures,  which   arc  the  great   fontal 


112  Of  Devotional  Reading.  [part 

abyss  from  which  every  work  of  piety  and  devotion 
must  be  drawn,  the  Lord  has  given  us  an  infinite  varie- 
ty of  Inspired  Literature.  What  literature  is  there 
which  does  not  find  itself  represented  in  the  Holy  Scrip- 
ture,— poetry,  history,  biography,  proverbs,  letters,  fa- 
bles, allegories'?  There  never  was  a  boolc  so  little 
monotonous  as  the  Bible,  so  continually  changing  its 
key,  if  so  be  that  some,  at  all  events,  may  be  charmed 
by  the  voice  of  the  Heavenly  Charmer.  The  same 
Spirit,  who  inspired  the  Holy  Scriptures,  gave  great 
diversity  of  gifts  to  the  early  Christian  teachers.  All 
were  not  Apostles,  nor  all  prophets,  nor  all  teachers, 
nor  did  all  speak  with  tongues,  nor  all  interpret.  And 
now  that  the  supernatural  gifts  have  died  out  of  the 
Church,  the  same  Spirit  observes  the  same  rule  of  va- 
riety in  the  different  mental  endowments,  which  He 
distributes  to  different  teachers  of  Divine  Truth.  All 
men's  writings  have  not  the  same  power  over  all  men's 
minds.  Is  there  not  a  plain  testimony  to  this  in  the 
avowal  which  we  hear  so  often  made ;  "  I  know  I  ought 
to  like  such  and  such  a  book,  which  all  the  world  agrees 
in  praising ;  but  I  cannot  do  it  1 "  What  the  com- 
plaint really  means  is,  that  the  book  does  not  suit'  you, 
that  the  general  strain  of  the  author's  mind  has  not 
that  harmony  with  the  general  strain  of  yours,  which 
will  give  him  an  influence  over  you  for  good.  That 
being  the  case,  leave  him  alone, — without  however 
doubting  or  denying  the  power  which  he  may  have  over 
other  minds.  Even  in  the  Holy  Scriptures  themselves 
we  think  ourselves  quite  warranted  in  selecting  those 
passages  which  are  most  suitable  to  the  circumstances, 
intelligence,  and  character  of  the  readei'.  No  one  would 
think  of  recommending  a  peasant  to  engage  himself 
much  with  the  Book  of  the  Revelation,  or  a  child  to 
study  the  eighth  chapter  to  the  Romans.     Much  more, 


11.]  Of  Devotional  Reading.  1 1 H 

then  may  wc  exercise  a  similar  discretion  with  those 
works,  whicli,  however  pious  and  edifying,  do  not  come 
to  us  on  the  authority  of  Inspiration.  Choose,  then, 
liioso  books  to  which,  from  a  cursory  knowledge  of 
heir  contents,  you  find  yourself  most  drawn.  There 
i!-c  several  which  have  attained  the  rank  of  standard 
\\  orks,  from  their  possessing  excellences  of  various 
1  inds.  Such  are  the  Saint's  Rest,  the  Pilgrim's  Pro- 
.rcss  (which  all  know  a  little  of.  but  very  few  have 
studied),  the  ImiUition  of  Christ  by  Thomas  i  Kcmpis, 
Taylor's  Holy  Living  and  Dying,  Cecil's  Remains,  the 
Thoughts  of  Adam,  Pascal's  Thoughts  on  Religion, 
Hishop  Ilall's  Contemplations,  Edwards  on  the  Reli- 
^'ious  Affections,  Leighton's  Commentary  on  St.  Peter, 
the  Christian  Year,  and  several  others  which  will  at 
once  suggest  themselves  to  all  who  have  a  general  ac- 
quaintance with  our  religious  literature.  To  these  I 
may  add  Foster's  Sermons,  and  Archer  Butler's  Ser- 
mons, both  of  which  combine  originality  of  view  with 
piety  of  sentiment  in  an  unusual  degree,  and  also  two 
works  which  are  most  valuable  as  theological  compen- 
diums,  while  their  authors  never  lose  sight  of  the  edifi- 
cation of  the  heart,  Griffith  on  the  Creed,  and  the 
Bishop  of  Tasmania's  (Nixon's)  Lectures  on  the  Cate- 
chism. There  are  indeed  many  devotional  publications, 
especially  some  of  recent  date,  which  will  seem  more 
attractive  than  the  above,  and  which  will  better  meet 
the  unhealthy  craving  for  something  new  and  highly 
flavored,  which  now  is  so  generally  prevalent.  But 
spiritual  nourishment  resembles  natural  nourishment  in 
tlib  respect,  that  the  most  stimulating  is  by  no  means 
the  most  wholesome  or  the  most  safe.  He  who  hon- 
estly reads  for  edification  must  not  discard  a  book  for 
being  dry,  as  if  he  read  for  diversion.  In  a  certain  tern 
per  of  mind  the  Holy  Scriptures  themselves  will  fall 


114  Of  Devotional  Reading.  [part 

upon  us  as  insipid ;  it  will  seem  to  us  as  if  we  knew 
them  by  heart,  and  had  nothing  farther  to  learn  from 
them,  as  if.  they  could  neither  settle  controversy  nor 
quicken  thought.  But  this  temper  of  mind  is  one  in 
which  we  are  incapable  of  edification,  however  capable 
we  may  be  of  amusement.  In  a  right  state  of  mind, 
those  books  will  please  us  most  which  most  resemble 
the  Holy  Scriptures — which  are  most  weighty,  most 
sober,  most  simple,  most  savoring  of  a  spiritual  mind. 

But  suppose  our  book  chosen,  and  chosen  well  and 
wisely.  In  what  manner  shall  we  read  it  ?  The  an- 
swer to  this  question  has  implicitly  been  given  already. 
Read  it  as  a  devotional  exercise,  mixing  Prayer,  or  at 
least  devout  aspirations,  with  the  reading.  Every 
thing  that  can  be  said  on  the  subject  is  really  wrapped 
up  in  this, — that  the  reading  shall  be  devotional.  Yet 
we  will  expand  the  thought  a  very  little. 

Think  of  the  author  as  now  a  member  of  the  Church 
triumphant,  one  who  is  with  Christ  in  Paradise,  end 
for  aught  you  know,  looking  down  upon  your  struggles 
and  trials  from  a  sphere  where  sin  and  sorrow  are  un- 
known. Regard  this  book  as  a  sort  of  letter  sent  from 
him  to  you,  to  encourage  you  on  your  heavenward  pil- 
grimage, and  to  stir  in  you  a  livelier  hope  of  the  in- 
heritance to  which  he  has  (by  Grace)  attained.  By  de- 
grees you  shall  feel  attracted  in  a  strange  way,  though 
you  have  never  seen  him,  towards  his  mind,  as  it  is  mir- 
rored in  his  writings,  and  shall  realize  something  of  the 
sentiments  described  in  that  beautiful  passage  of  the 
Cliristian  Year : — 


Meanwhile  with  every  son  and  saint  of  Thine, 

Along  the  glorious  line, 
Sitting  by  turns  beneath  Thy  sacred  feet, 

We'll  hold  communion  sweet, 


1 1 .  j  Of  Devotional  Readint;,  1 1  f) 

Know  them  bj  look  ftud  voice,  and  thank  them  oil 

For  helping  us  in  thrall, 
For  words  of  hope,  and  bright  cnsamplos  gircn, 
To  show  through  moonless  skies  that  there  is  light  in 

Ueaven." 


The  recollection  that  you  read  for  edification,  and  not 
V  curiosity,  or  to  serve  a  controversial  purpose,  will 
suggest  many  wholesome  rules.  Carefully  eschew  all 
dissipation  in  the  method  of  reading.  Dissipation  is 
the  great  snare  of  all  study,  whether  secular  or  religious, 
in  the  present  day.  There  is  so  much  to  read,— such 
profusion  of  matter  in  every  department  of  literature, 
nay  even  in  the  public  journals, — that  insensibly  the 
habit  is  formed  of  skipping  the  dull,  and  sipping  the 
interesting,  and  never  honouring  any  book  with  a  fair 
and  thorough  perusal.  We  must  set  ourselves  in 
opposition  to  this  habit.,  if  we  wish  to  profit  by  devo- 
tional reading.  Books  must  be  read  through  from  end 
to  end,  if  it  were  only  as  a  corrective  to  that  discursive 
ibit  of  mind,  which  the  literature  of  the  day  fosters, 
and  which  is  so  particularly  inimical  to  devotion. 
Generally  speaking,  a  second  book  of  devotion  should 
not  be  taken  up,  till  the  first  is  finished.  If  the  time 
which  we  can  spare  for  such  reading  is  short,  books  of 
thoughts,  more  or  less  sentcntiously  expressed  (such  as 
some  of  those  I  have  mentioned,  and  to  which  I  may 
here  add  "  Selections  from  the  Writings  of  Payson"), 
will  be  found  very  serviceable.  The  eye  soon  runs 
over  a  few  lines,  which  convey  a  weighty  sentiment ; 
and,  when  the  sentiment  is  caught,  the  mind  may  recur 
to  it  at  spare  moments  during  the  rest  of/he  day. 

We  have  already  said  that  good  and  holy  sentiments 
are  the  oil  which  feeds  the  lamp  of  Prayer.  They  are 
emphatically  so.    And  this  suggests  an  occasional  use 


116  Of  Fasting.  [part 

of  good  books,  over  and  above  their  regular  and  normal 
use.  There  are  seasons  known  to  every  devout  person, 
when  the  vessel  of-the  heart  seems  to  run  dry,  and  the 
flame  of  Prayer  burns  low  in  the  socket.  You  may 
then  often  replenish  the  vessel  by  reading  the  favourite 
spiritual  author.  Pass  your  eye  once  more  over  that 
marked  passage, — over  those  words  which  glow  with 
such  a  fervour  of  devout  sentiment ;  and  the  oil  ^vill 
flow  again,  drop  by  drop,  into  the  vessel.  Particularly 
may  this  be  done  with  Christian  poetry.  Poetry  is  the 
voice  of  the  affections ;  and,  therefore,  has-  a  peculiar 
tendency  to  quicken  the  affections.  The  music  of 
David's  harp  chased  away  from  Saul  the  evil  spirit  of 
moody  sullenness.  Elisha's  minstrel,  playing  with  his 
hand,  laid  such  p.  spell  upon  the  prophet's  mind,  that 
the  hand  of  the  Lord  came  upon  him,  and  he  pro- 
phesied. And  the  minstrelsy  of  psalms  and  hymns, 
and  spiritual  songs,  has  often  brought  the  Christian  out 
of  a  state  of  mind,  in  which  Prayer  seemed  a'  labour 
and  a  drudgery,  if  not  an  impossibility,  into  that  calm, 
and  holy  frame,  in  which  he  could  again  *put  forth 
spiritual  energies,  and  has  found  himself  able  to  renew 
his  interrupted  converse  with  God.  Give  the  specific  a 
trial,  and  you  shall  ere  long  know  its  virtue  for  your- 
self. 


CHAPTER  yil. 

OF  FASTIXG. 
^'- 1  keep  under  myhody^  and  bring  it  into  subjection.'''' — 1  Cor.  ix.  27. 

The  passage  whicb  stands  at  the  head  of  this,  chapter 
carries  our  minds  at  once  to  the  subject  of  Fasting. 
And  it  is  a  subject  on  which  those  who  desire  above  all 


II.  I  Of  Fasti  I,'!.  11  V 

other  things  quiet  advancement  in  the  religious  cliarac- 
1*  will  gladly  hail  counsel  and  direction.  Fasting  is  a 
practice  uncongenial  to  that  form  of  piety  which  con- 
sists wholly  in  good  emotions  and  serious  impressions. 
But  if  any  one  is  profoundly  discontented  with  emotions 
r'.nd  impressions  which  terminate  on  themselves,  and 
.^ve  no  mark  on  the  character;  if  any  one  seeks 
growth  in  grace  and  knowledge  as  the  only  satisfactory 
criterion  of  Spiritual  Life,  the  subject  of  Fasting  will 
seem  to  that  person  worthy  at  least  of  serious  considerar 
tion,  as  a  practice  which,  if  discreetly  and  devoutly  used, 
might  at  all  events  conduce  to  his  advancement.  By 
many  of  my  readers  Fasting  is  probably  looked  at  so 
much  as  an  obsolete  exercise,  and  the  revival  of  it  would 
be  regarded  as  so  irksome,  that  it  is  necessary,  in  ap- 
proaching the  subject,  to  pray  for  an  ingenuous  and 
open  mind,  ready  to  welcome  any  conclusions  to  which 
God's  Word  may  seem  to  lead  us. 

To  the  question  whether  Fasting  is  prescribed  in 
lloly  Scripture,  it  must  be  answered  that  in  its  literal 
form  it  is  nowhere  prescribed,  but  that  its  spirit  and 
principle  is  strongly  insisted  upon.  Also  it  may  be 
said,  that,  though  not  commanded,  it  is  strongly  com- 
mended, both  by  Our  Lord's  assumption  in  the  Sermon 
on  the  Mount  that  IILs  followers  will  practise  it,  and 
by  the  example  not  only  of  Scriptural  saints,  but  of 
holy  men  in  modem  times,  to  whatever  Theological 
School  they  may  have  belonged.  In  both  these  re- 
spects it  bears  some  resemblance  to  the  practice  of  keep- 
ing Sunday,  which  I  shall  have  occasion  presently  to 
draw  into  a  further  comparison  with  it  Keeping  Sun- 
day is  nowhere  literally  prescribed  in  Holy  Scripture, 
nie  Fourth  Commandment,  understood  in  the  letter, 


118  Of  Fasting,  [part 

prescribes  the  keeping  holy  the  seventh  day,  which  none 
but  the  Jews  ever  do  keep.  But  the  principle  of  set- 
ting apart  a  portion  of  our  time  to  God,  both  weekly 
and  daily,  and  the  principle  of  assembling  ourselves 
together  for  Public  Worship,  which  cannot  be  done  by 
the  whole  community  unless  occupations  cease  on  a 
given  day,  is  clearly  recognized  in  several  passages. 
And,  as  in  the  matter  of  the  weekly  rest,  the  Church, 
or  Christian  Society,  has  stepped  in  from  the  very  ear- 
liest time,  and  prescribed  that  the  day  of  Christ's  Res- 
urrection (or  first  day)  is  to  be  observed  instead  of  the 
seventh,  so  somewhat  analogously  the  Church  has  given 
a  definite  shape  to  the  Scriptural  principle  of  self-denial ; 
and  appointed  certain  days  in  her  Calendar  as  days  of 
Fasting  and  Abstinence.  Moreover,  inasmuch  as  no 
religious  person  has  ever  slighted  this  Ordinance  of  the 
Lord's  Day,  or  lived  in  habitual  disregard  of  it,  so  I  be 
lieve  that  no  man  eminent  for  piety  (and  here  the  ap- 
peal must  be  made  to  Religious  Biography)  has  ever 
failed  to  exemplify  in  some  measure  the  practice  of 
Fasting,  though  doubtless  the  modes  in  which  the  prin- 
ciple has  been  exemplified  have  been  very  various. 

In  pursuance  of  the  thoughts  with  which  I  have 
opened  the  subject,  I  will  speak  first  of  the  principle  of 
Fasting,  as  universally  binding  upon  Christians ;  and, 
secondly,  of  Fasting  as  an  observance  for  which  special 
days  have  been  set  apart. 

I.  "What  is  the  principle  of  Fasting  ?  Let  us  gather 
it  from  the  words  of  St.  Paul :  "  I  keep  under  my  body, 
and  bring  it  into  subjection."  It  should  be  remarked 
at  the  outset,  that  both  the  verbs  by  which  the  Apostle 
here  denotes  the  discipline  of  the  body  are  strong  and 
peculiar.     The  first  occurs  only  once  again  in  the  New 


II.  I  Of  Fasting.  lU 

Testament,  and  the  second  never  again.  The  first  car- 
ries on  a  metaphor,  which  the  Apostle  has  already  era- 
ployed  in  the  previous  verse  :  "  So  fight  I,  not  as  one 
tliat  bcateth  the  air."  The  fighting  here  alluded  to  is 
not  fighting  with  swords,  but  that  pugilistic  encounter 
with  the  cestns,  or  boxing  glove,  which  formed  one  of 
the  Greek  games  held  in  honor  of  the  god  Neptune  at 
the  Isthmus  of  Corinth,  and  which  therefore  the  Apos- 
tle's Corinthian  converts  had  frequently  witnessed.  In 
what  follows  he  pursues  the  same  image.  His  body  ho 
regards  as  his  antagonist  in  a  pugilistic  encounter ;  and 
accordingly  employs  a  peculiar  word,  which,  literally 
t  ranslated,  signifies,  "  But  I  cover  my  body  with  bruises." 
[It  should  perhaps  be  observed  by  the  way,  that  the 
Apostle's  Corinthian  readers  would  by  no  means  attach 
to  the  allusion  those  ideas  of  a  coarse  and  brutalizing 
-port  which  we  can  hardly  help  connecting  with  it.  All 
he  games  held  at  the  Isthmus  would  be  regarded  by 
licm  not  only  as  exercises  of  chivalrous  gallantry,  like 
I  he  tournaments  of  the  Middle  Ages,  but  as  solemn  re- 
ligious festivals,  held  in  honor  of  the  god  Poseidon.] 
The  next  word,  by  which  he  denotes  the  discipline  in- 
flicted by  bim  on  his  body,  would  be  more  exactly  ren- 
dered, "I  reduce  it  to  a  condition  of  slavery" — a 
stronger  expression  this  than  merely,  "  I  bring  it  into 
subjection."  The  children  are  in  subjection  to  the 
father,  the  wife  to  the  husband ;  but  this  is  a  compara- 
tively mild  rule,  which  not  only  consults  the  interests 
of  the  governed,  but  appeals  to  their  reason  and  con- 
science. A  slave,  however,  according  to  the  views  of 
slavery  current  when  the  Apostle  wrote,  was  simply  a 
living  piece  of  property,  who  had  no  rights  and  no 
claims,  and  who,  if  he  were  rebellious  or  insolent,  must 


120  Of  Fasting.  [part 

be  chastised  by  blows,  and  coerced  by  being  made  to 
grind  in  the  prison-bouse. 

So  mucb  for  the  words  wbicb  are  now  more  imme- 
diately under  review.  But  from  the  Apostle's  style  of 
writing,  wbicb  is  a  style  of  copious  digression,  very  few 
of  bis  w^eigbty  words  can  be  appreciated,  unless  we 
trace  tbem  back  to  tbeir  connection  with  tbe  general 
argument.  Tbey  all  bave  tbeir  roots  grappled  deep  into 
that  argument;  and,  accordingly,  to  ^isolate  tbem  and 
consider  tbem  apart  from  tbe  context,  is  like  rudely  tear- 
ing up  a  flower,  instead  of  looking  at  it  wbile  it  waves 
its  fair  tresses  upon  tbe  flower-bed ; — even  wbile  we 
gaze,  it  loses  its  grace  and  fresbness,  and  withers  in  our 
band.  What  then  led  St.  Paul  to  speak  of  this  severe 
discipbne  which  be  inflicted  upon  bis  body  ?  In  the 
foregoing  chapter  he  had  been  advocating  certain  restric- 
tions (in  reference  to  meats  offered  to  idols)  which  the 
Corinthians  were  to  observe,  not  at  all  out  of  conscience, 
but  out  of  consideration  for  the  prejudices  of  others. 
En  the  chapter  before  us,  he  thus  pursues  the  train  of 
ideas  which  bad  been  started  by  that  topic  :  "  Do  not 
murmur  because  a  restriction  is  thus  laid  upon  you  in 
things  which  ye  might  innocently  enjoy;  for  do  not  I 
myself  lay  many  such  restrictions  upon  myself?  In 
one  point  especially  I  do  so.  I  might — not  innocently 
alone,  but  most  lawfully — claim  support  from  you  to 
whom  I  preach.  The  Lord  bath  ordained  that  they 
wbicb  preach  the  Gospel  should  live  of  the  Gospel ;  and 
I  have  as  good  a  right  to  stand  upon  this  ordinance  as 
other  Apostles.  If  I  threw  myself  upon  you  for  main- 
tenance, it  w^ould  only  be  asserting  what  is  my  Divine 
prerogative,  and  claiming  from  you  not  a  gratuity  but 
tbe  fulfilment  of  a  solemn  duty.     But  all  of  you  know 


11. 1  Of  Fasting,  1:1 

that  I  bavo  novcr  stood  upon  my  ngbt,  nor  accept- 
ed a  single  denarius  from  any  of  you.  Wliy  not? 
T':irtly,  because  I  feel  that  this  manifested  disintcrested- 
oss  will  conduce  to  the  great  cause  which  I  advocate, 
and  give  mo  influence  and  weight  in  certain  quarters 
where  I  desire  an  influence.  But  I  have  another  reason. 
I  know  that  it  is  a  hard  thing  to  be  saved.  I  know 
that  my  dc^ir  Master  said  that  strait  was  the  gate  and 
narrow  was  the  way  that  leadeth  unto  life,  and  that 
IV' w  there  be  that  find  it  I  know  that  I  am  a  highly- 
privileged  man ;  but  that  does  not  make  me  a  safe  man. 
Rather  I  know  that  eminent  privileges  involve  eminent 
dangers,  even  as  the  being  placed  on  a  lofty  pinnacle 
creates  dizzfhess  and  imperils  life.  In  short,  I  know 
that  I  am  unsafe  if  I  usfc  my  Christian  liberty  to  the 
full  extent.  I  know  that  I  cannot  insist  upon  every 
thing  which  I  might  lawfully  enjoy,  and  at  the  same 
time  be  secure.  So  I  do  not  stand  upon  my  right  in 
this  particular.  I  earn  my  own  bread  by  the  sweat  of 
my  brow.  When  I  have  comforted  and  edified  my 
flock  in  the  district  where  I  happen  to  be,  and  chosen 
pastors  for  them,  and  laid  hands  upon  those  pastors,  and 
dictated  my  Epistles  to  those  distant  Churches,  with 
which  I  am  present  in  spirit,  though  absent  from  them 
in  body — then  I  grasp  the  hammer,  the  saw,  and  the 
needle,  and  set  to  work  upon  my  tent-poles,  and  upon 
the  shaggy  goat's  hair  which  forms  the  covering  of  my 
tents.  True  ;  it  is  severe  labor — cruelly  severe — lasting 
sometimes  long  into  the  night,  when  the  day  has  been 
one  of  cares,  and  prayers,  and  earnest  expostulations 
with  tears.  I  know  that  the  body  is  wearing  out,  and 
the  outward  man  perishing  beneath  the  stress  of  such 
labors.     Well ;  but  I  feel  it  to  be  essential.     It  is  not 

C 

f 


122  Of  Fasting.  [part 

by  exertion  simply,  but  by  straining  every  nerve  and 
sinew,  that  your  runners  in  tlie  Isthmian  foot-race  gain 
tlie  pine-garland,  wliicli  is  tlie  victor's  meed.  It  is  not 
by  empty  and  pretentious  flourisbes  of  tbeir  bands  in 
tbe  air,  but  by  well-aimed  and  well-planted  blows  that 
your  Istbmian  pugilists  overwhelm  their  antagonists. 
And  so,  being  resolved  to  gain  the  mastery  over  my 
fleshly  and  animal  nature,  I  deny  it  much  of  the  rest 
and  many  of  the  indulgences  which  it  might  lawfully 
enjoy.  I  batter  it  with  toils  and  Ikbors,  I  coerce  it 
firmly,  and  chastise  it  as  being  my  slave.  .  "I  keep 
under  my  body,  and  bring  it  into  subjection^:  lest  that 
by  any  means,  when  I  have  preached  to  others,  I  myself 
should  be  a  castaway." 

Now  what  is  the  principle  of  Christian  discipline 
which  the  Apostle  is  here  laying  down  ?  Let  me  ex- 
hibit it  to  you  in  a  figure — a  figure  which,  if  not  itself 
found  in  Holy  Scripture,  is  yet  only  an  expansion  and 
development  of  one  which  is  frequently  found  there. 
We  are  called,  nay  we  are  in  virtue  of  our  Baptism, 
children  of  God.  It  is  upon  this  relationship,  and  the 
sentiments  and  duties  flowing  from  it,  that  the  Apostle 
builds  his  exhortation  when  he  says,  "  Be  ye  therefore 
followers "  (the  literal  translation  is  "  imitators  " — the 
allusion  being  to  the  trick  of  imitating  the  parent  which 
the  child  readily  acquires)  "  of  God,  as  dear  children.'* 
The  phrase  "walking with  God"  maybe  drawn  into  the 
circle  of  the  same  imagery.  The  child  walks  by  the 
father's  side  over  the  breezy  down,  holding  his  hand, 
and  looking  up  into  his  face  ever  and  anon  to  ask  ques- 
tions and  obtain  an  explanation  of  difficulties.  The 
Christian  in  like  manner  walks  in  affiance  and  trust 
along  the  thorny  paths  of  life,  guided  by  the  Word  and 


II.  I  Of  Fasting,  121 

Providence  of  his  Ilcavenly  Father,  and  leaning  on  His 
wisdom  and  His  grace.  Now  extend  this  imagery  a  lit- 
tle. Imagine  the  child  leaving  the  father's  hand  for  a 
moment^  and  sporting  about  under  his  eye.  Partly 
tVom  curiosity,  and  partly  from  that  spirit  of  frohc  which 
i-  attracted  by  danger  and  the  prospect  of  an  enterprise, 
the  child  nears  a  steep  cliff.  What  does  the  father  do ? 
1  le  cries,  "  Come  away  immediately."  The  spot  where 
the  child  is  may  be  perfectly  safe,  so  long  as  he  contin- 
ues there ;  the  child's  weight  may  be  so  light  that  there 
»>uld  be  no  danger  of  a  projecting  boulder  toppling 
ver  with  him  ;  the  sea-breeze  at  the  verge  of  the  preci- 
pice may  be  delicious  and  bracing,  and  the  turf  may  be 
enamelled  with  daisies  and  buttercups ;  but  the  stem 
command  is  repeated  in  a  voice  which  the  child  knows 
he  must  not  disobey :  "  Come  away  instantly,  without 
a  moment's  delay."  And  reasonably  so.  It  is  not 
reason  to  venture  too  near  danger,  or  to  continue  in  its 
neighborhood.  Dizziness  may  seize  the  child,  or  he 
may  be  tempted  onwards  to  an  insecure  spot.  A  moth, 
which  flies  so  near  the  bright  flame  as  just  to  presene 
its  wings  from  being  singed,  is  a  foolish  moth  and  cer- 
tain to  come  to  mischief.  Now  apply  all  this  to  our 
spiritual  walk  along  the  perilous  and  slippery,  though 
sometimes  flowery,  path  of  life.  "  All  things  are  law- 
ful unto  me,  but  all  things  are  not  expedient :  all  things 
are  lawful  for  me,  but  I  will  not  be  brought  under  tie 
power  of  any."  Take  the  various  forms  of  worldly 
amusement.  So  far  ^^  they  are  really  amusements  and 
not  labor  and  sorrow  (which  in  fact  many  of  them  are, 
dreadfully  jading  the  body  and  mind,  and  exhausting 
llie  energies),  and  so  far  as  no  breach  of  God's  moral 
law  is  involved  in  them,  they  are  innocent  and  lawful 


124  Of  Fasting,  [part 

Nay,  we  go  furtlier.  Amusements  of  au  intelligent  and 
rational  cliaracter  are  a  positive  benefit ;  for  the  mind, 
wherewith  alone  we  can  serve  God  acceptably,  needs 
relaxation  as  urgently  as  the  body  needs  sleep.  But  it 
is  one  thing  to  say  of  amusements  that  in  themselves 
they  are  innocent  and  lawful ;  quite  another  thing  to 
say  that  Christians  must  lay  no  restrictions  upon  them- 
selves as  regards  amusement.  St.  Paul,  when  he  be- 
came an  Apostle,  might  have  lawfully  parted  with  his 
whole  stock  in  trade  as  a  tentmaker,  and  might  have 
held  himself  exempt  from  other  cares  and  labors,  save 
those  of  the  Sacred  Ministry.  Did  I  say  lawfully? 
Nay,  we  may  go  further.  There  was  an  order  of  the 
Lord  for  his  doing  so,  if  he  pleased.  But  St.  Paul 
knew  that  he  must  not  use  his  Christian  liberty  to  the 
full  extent,  if  he  would  be  safe.  And  we  surely,  who 
are  not  burning,  shining  lights  like  that  extraordinary 
man,  but  very  humble  and  commonplace  Christians, 
living  in  the  low  range  of  commonplace  trials  and  in- 
firmities, and  altogether  unworthy  to  stoop  down  and 
unloose  the  shoe-latchet  of  the  humblest  saint  of  Jesus, 
can  hardly  dispense  with  a  discipline  which  St.  Paul 
considered  to  be  essential  for  himself.  Does  any  one 
find  by  experience  that  some  worldly  amusement,  the.  ugh 
innocent  in  itself,  and  very  possibly  innocent  for  others 
(let  us  remember  in  judging  others  on  these  points,  that 
"  to  the  pure  all  things  are  pure  "),  yet  has  a  tendency 
to  inflame  his  passions,  to  set  up  his  vanity,  and  to 
brugh  rudely  from  his  mind  the  tj^ought  of  God's  Pres 
ence  ?  Then  let  there  be  no  compromise.  Let  him  lis- 
ten to  the  Voice  of  the  Everlasting  Father  calling  him 
out  of  harm's  way  :  "  My  child,  come  away  instantly.* 
But  supposing  he  experiences  no  evil  spiritual  effect 


il]  0/  Fasting.  125 

from  the  indulgence,  or  at  least  none  of  which  he  is 
>n8cion8,  may  ho  abandon  himself  without  restriction 
to  the  amusement  in  question,  live  in  it,  sacrifice  a  con 
>icleniblo  amount  of  money,  leisure,  time  to  it  ?  Surely 
not  To  live  in  any  amusement  is  to  be  the  slave  of  it 
And  the  Christian  should  spurn  any  such  dependence. 
The  tone  which  he  takes  up  toward  all  innocent  enjoy- 
ments and  recreations  should  be  just  that  of  the  Apos- 
tle, "All  things  are  lawful  for  me,  but  I  will  not  be 
brought  under  the  power  of  any."  Besides,  the  Chris- 
tian dares  not  give  himself  full  latitude  in  this  respect 
With  an  insidious  heart,  with  crafty  spiritual  foes  watch- 
ing for  his  halting,  with  that  awful  warning  respecting 
the  straitness  of  the  gate  and  the  narrowness  of  the  way 
ringing  in  his  ear,  it  would  not  be  safe  to  do  so.  He 
sports  not  within  a  very  wide  margin  of  the  precipice's 
edge. 

Now  it  is  quite  clear  that  the  principle  which  we 
have  laid  down  admits  of  an  application  to  food,  as  well 
as  to  all  other  less  essential  recreations.  And  it  is 
equally  clear  that  in  respect  of  food,  as  well  as  other 
recreations,  the  Christian  must  be  under  the  guidance 
and  government  of  this  principle.  By  the  bounty  of 
Our  Heavenly  Father,  too  little  thought  of,  because  it 
reaches  us  through  a  train  of  secondary  causes  (such  as 
good  harvests,  prosperity  in  the  country,  our  own  abil- 
ity to  buy,  our  own  abiUty  to  get),  our  board  is  daily 
spread  not  with  necessaries  only,  but  with  luxuries. 
We  may  innocently  enjoy  these  things,  if  we  partake 
of  them  with  thanksgiving.  "  Every  creature  of  God 
is  good,  and  nothing  to  be  refused,  if  it  be  received 
with  thanksgiving :  for  it  is  sanctified  by  the  word  of 
God  and  prayer."    Meats  are  in  themselves  a  matter  of 


126  Of  Fasting.  [part 

indifference  ;  and  tTie  Christian  has  nothing  in  common 
with  the  ascetic,  who  imagines  that  in  the  mere  act  of 
abstinence  there  is  a  pmity  and  a  virtue.  But  it  is  quite 
another  thing  to  say  that  we  may  with  safety  indulge  in 
food  to  satiety,  and  lay  no  restraint  upon  our  appetite 
for  choice  viands  and  delicate  fare.  In  the  first  place, 
there  are,  as  every  one  knows,  certain  classes  of  sins,  to 
which  any  thing  approaching  to  soft  and  luxurious  liv- 
ing would  act  as  a  direct  incentive  and.  stimulant.  Fast- 
ing combined  with  earnest  prayer  must  be  in  reason. \hQ 
meet  corrective  for  such  sins.  But  it  is  so  in  Scripture, 
as  well  as  in  reason.  Commenting  upon  His  disciples' 
mabihty  to  cast  out  the  foul  spirit  from  the  lunatic  child, 
Our  Lord  implied  that  their  failure  was  due  to  their  not 
having  used  the  means  always  found  necessary  under 
those  circumstances :  "  This  kind  can  come  forth  by 
nothing  but  by  prayer  andi  fasting y 

But  suppose  other  cases,  in  which  the  spiritual  con- 
sequences of  unbridled  indulgence  are  not,  as  far  as  we 
can  perceive,  mischievous.  Even  then  we  say,  "You 
cannot  possibly  be  safe  in  using  your  Christian  liberty 
to  its  utmost  extent.  Safety  without  self-denial  is  the 
safety  of  the  child  gambolling  on  the  edge  of  the  preci- 
pice, and  of  the  moth  fluttering  in  the  ray  of  the  can- 
dle. Some  men — many  more  than  suspect  themselves 
to  be  so — are  slaves  of  food — peevish  and  fretful,  if  the 
natural  craving  for  it  be  in  the  least  stinted  or  thwarted. 
Is  their  Christianity  cast  in  the  mould  of  St.  Paul's  ? 
We  doubt  not  that  they  relish  his  views  of  Christian 
liberty ;  but  do  they  equally  relish  his  views  of  Chris- 
tian restriction  ?  And  yet  it  is  in  the  restriction  that 
the  highest  freedom  of  the  Gospel  lies.  If,  as  regards 
any  one  innocent  enjoyment,  a  man  has  not  moral  cour- 


n.]  Of  Fa$tinrj,  127 

nnjo  cnougli,  or  foiw    ».  v........ .v.   ,  ..v  v.:^..,  ^v>  ab.sUiiu 

from  it  occasionally,  to  that  enjoyment  the  man  is  a 
slave.  And  the  only  true  freedom  lies  in  his  obtaining 
by  Grace  such  force  of  character  as  to  bo  lord  para- 
mount over  the  enjoymenti  and  to  be  able  to  say,  **  I 
could  easily  dispense  with  this  or  that  comfort^  if  there 
were  any  good  object  for  resigning  it"  But  then  this 
power  of  easily  dispensing  with  comforts  is  not  to  bo 
gained  except  by  actual  practice  and  experiment  To 
all  the  numerous  blessings  of  daily  life,  wherewith  a 
liountiful  God  crowns  our  cup,  we  have  no  idea,  we  can 
liave  no  idea,  how  much  we  are  wedded,  until  we  are 
deprived  of  them.  While  in  the  enjoyment  of  them, 
we  readily  fancy  that,  at  a  moment's  notice,  if  need 
arose,  we  could  dispense  with  these  trifles,  and  scarcely 
feel  their  loss ;  but  this  fancy  argues  very  little  acquaint- 
ance with  the  human  heart  That  heart,  wherever  it 
plants  itself  in  life,  throws  out  suckers  of  dependence 
all  around  it  No  soil  is  so  muddy,  no  root  is  so  dry 
and  rotten,  that  the  heart  will  not  grapple  a  sucker  into 
it,  will  not  twine  a  sucker  round  it ;  so  that  when  torn 
away  from  the  muddy  soil  and  the  rotten  root,  the 
heart  bleeds.  What  Religion  says  is,  "  Learn  gradually, 
not  to  puriiy  yourself  by  pain  (that  is  the  dream  of  the 
ascetic),  not  to  expiate  your  sin  by  self-inflicted  torture 
(that  is  abhorrent  to  the  Christian  mind,  as  infringing 
on  the  only  meritorious  Atonement  of  the  Saviour),  but 
to  detach  your  afliections  from  all  things  earthly  and 
sensual,  and  aim  at  a  despotic  control  over  every  appe- 
tite." That  is  the  fundamental  principle  of  Fasting ; 
and  it  is  a  principle  which  every  man  must  carry  out 
in  his  daily  life,  one  after  this  manner  and  another  after 
that,  if  he  desires  to  be  a  good  soldier  of  Jesus  Christ 


128  Of  Fasting,  [part 

No  good  soldier  ever  refused  to  endure  Ldrdsliips. 
\Aniat  would  the  general  say,  if  the  soldier  a\  erred  a 
distaste  for  the  hard  fare,  the  broken  slumbers,  and  the 
scanty  accommodation  incidental  to  camp  life  ? 

II.  But  it  may  be  said  that  the  self-control  (or  in 
other  words  the  temperance)  which  I  am  advocating, 
should  run  parallel  with  our  daily  life,  and  not  be  con 
fined  to  stated  seasons. 

Most  true,  as  far  as  the  bare  statement  goes ;  but 
most  false,  if  what  is  intended  or  implied  by  the  state- 
ment be  that  stated  seasons  of  Fasting,  such  as  our 
Church  appoints,  are  useless  formalities,  which  had  bet- 
ter be  expunged  from  the  Liturgy.  The  "  Table  of  the 
Fasts,  and  Days  of  Abstinence,  to  be  observed  in  the 
Year,"  standing  (as  it  docs)  in  the  forefront  of  the  Book 
of  Common  Prayer,  is  a  solemn  and  valuable  reminder 
to  us  that  habits  of  self-control  form  an  essential  part 
of  the  Christian  character — a  solemn,  and  now  greatly 
needed  protest  from  the  book,  which,  next  to  the  Holy 
Scriptures,  we  are  most  bound  to  venerate,  against  the 
luxury  and  softness  of  a  degenerate  age  and  an  over- 
wrought civilization.  But  more  than  this — ^much  more. 
It  is,  indeed,  most  true  that  self-control  is  to  be  the  dis- 
cipline of  a  life,  not  the  fitfully-adopted  practice  of  an 
Ember  week,  or  of  a  Friday,  or  of  Lent.  But  those 
know  little  indeed  of  the  human  heart  who  do  not  know 
that  a  duty  for  which  no  stated  seasons  are  set  apart, 
more  especially  if  it  be  an  unpalatable  duty,  is  apt  to  be 
altogether  evaded  by  the  conscience.  That  which  has 
no  time  of  its  own,  but  simply  may  be  done,  and  ought 
to  be  done  at  every  time,  is.  sure  to  be  done  never.  The 
God  who  made  the  human  heart,  must  know  the  human 


II.]  Of  Fasting.  129 

heart  And  bccnusc  He  saw  ami  knew  iu  tciulfiicy  to 
find  loopholes  of  escape  from  observances,  which  have 
no  definite  season,  lie  instituted  the  Sabbath  in  the  law 
of  the  Fourth  Commandifient^  between  which  and  the 
Ecclesiastical  Institution  of  Fasting  Days  there  is  much 
wliich  is  very  analogous.  Undoubtedly  men  should 
"  pray  without  ceasing,"  and  not  on  the  Sunday  only. 
Undoubtedly,  men  should  surrender  some  portion  of 
their  daily,  and  not  only  of  their  weekly  leisure,  to 
prayer  (private  and  domestic),  and  to  the  study  of  God*8 
Word.  Undoubtedly  men  should  every  day  withdraw 
into  the  screened  sanctuary  of  their  own  hearts,  and 
resting  awhile  from  worldly  cares,  give  their  minds  to 
.heavenly  contemplation.  But  undoubtedly,  also,  the 
restrictions  of  the  Sabbath-law  are  wise  and  useful  re- 
strictions. Judge  in  yourselves  whether  they  be  not  so 
indeed.  Suppose  that  a  day  of  religious  rest  were  pre- 
scribed by  no  authority.  Suppose  that,  worship  and 
meditation  being  pressed  upon  us  as  urgently  as  they 
are  at  present,  the  time  of  fulfilling  these  duties  had 
been  left  to  our  o>vn  option,  and  that  the  seventh  day 
were  undistinguished  by  any  special  consecration  of  it. 
Can  you  suppose  that,  under  these  circumstances,  there 
would  have  been  one  tithe  of  the  devotion  in  Christen- 
dom which  there  is  at  present  ?  Would  not  the  result 
infallibly  be  that  the  Lord's  tax  upon  our  time  would 
be  altogether  disregarded — that  our  odious  cupidity 
would  overleap  every  barrier  of  reason  and  conscience — 
that  there  would  be  no  pause  to  the  toils  of  the  artisans 
in  our  factories — no  cessation  in  the  jingle  of  commerce 
among  our  crowded  thoroughfares — and  that,  if  any 
one  were  inclined  for  a  pause  or  a  break,  or  felt  his 


1 30  Of  Fasting.  [part 

heart  yearn  a  little  for  the  tinkling  of  Church  bells,  and 
the  beautiful  sight  of  Christ's  flock  coming  to  worship 
Him  in  His  House  of  Prayer,  bis  neighbors  would  ^ay 
to  that  relenting  man,  "  Come  and  let  us  make  a  little 
more  money  to-day  ;  and,  as  for  God,  we  can  think  of 
Him  at  any  time  "  ?  Is  it  not  clear  that,  as  human  na- 
ture goes,  the  ordinance  of  the  Fourth  Commandment 
is  a  real  security  for  a  certain  amount  of  devotion  ? 
And,  although  we  freely  admit  that  Fasting  Days  ai;^ 
not  of  Divine,  but  only  of  Ecclesiastical,  appointment, 
yet  is  not  the  same  reasoning  applicable  to  them  ?  In 
the  ordinary  course  of  things,  are  men  likely  to  exer- 
cise self-control  more  or  less,  if  certain  days  are  specially 
set  apart  for  the  exercise?  Anyhow,  they  are  certain^ 
to  exercise  it  little  enough ;  but  we  are  sure  that  if  the 
ordinance  of  the  Fasting  Days  were  expunged  from  the 
Calendar,  they  would  exercise  it  still  less.  Therefore  it 
is  that  we  bless  God  that  we  have  as  yet  at  all  events 
retained  these  days ;  that  we  have  not  as  yet  surren- 
dered them  up  to  the  spirit  of  license  and  dislike  of 
religious  restraints,  and  therefore  it  is  that  we  recom- 
mend Christians,  not  in  a  spirit  of  sour  asceticism,  but 
in  the  exercise  of  a  sound  and  wise  Christian  discre- 
tion, to  observe  these  days  by  some  restrictions  upon 
their  liberty  as  to  innocent  comforts,  enjoyments,  and 
recreations — the  restrictions  being  always  limited  by 
regard  to  health  (any  interference  with  which  would  be 
not  only  sinful  in  itself,  but  a  positive  contradiction  of 
the  end  of  Fasting,  which  is  to  clear,  and  not  to  cloud 
the  mind)  and  being  always  guarded  as  far  as  possible 
from  the  notice  of  others. 

I  cannot  conclude  without  pointing  out,  that  the 


ii.l  Of  Fasting,  131 

aiMU'L;}  which  1  ha\c  bUj^gcstcd  between  the  Jjiviuo 
Institution  of  tbo  Sabbath  and  the  Ecclesiastical  Insti- 
tution of  Fiisting  Days,  is  one  which,  if  carried  out, 
would  effectually  rectify  the  abuses  to  which  Fasting  is 
exposed.  Observe  that,  if  any  good  result  is  to  bo 
looked  for  from  it,  the  Fast  Day  (like  the  Sabbath  Or 
dinancc)  must  be  spiritualized  and  Christianized — re- 
deemed from  Judaism  and  the  bondage  of  the  letter, 
and  kept  in  the  freedom  of  the  Spirit.  The  Sabbath- 
law,  as  it  stands  in  the  Ten  Commandments,  merely 
prescribes  rest  on  the  seventh  day.  But  no  Christian 
imagines  that  mere  literal  rest  is,  of  itself  and  by  itself, 
a  sufficient  fulfilment  of  the  precept.  No  Christian 
imagines  that  a  man  who  should  sleep  all  Sunday,  or 
loiter  about  in  indolence  all  Sunday,  would  be  observing 
the  Sabbath-law,  or  indeed  doing  any  thing  but  contrar- 
vening  it.  Such  an  obedience  would  bo  in  the  letter 
and  not  in  the  spirit.  The  spirit  of  the  precept  enjoins 
public  worship,  holy  thought  and  reading,  deeds  of  love, 
and  cheerful  Christian  intercourse.  Apply  the  same 
observation  to  the  Fasting  Day.  Tlie  mere  omission 
or  retrenchment  of  a  meal  is  by  itself  nothing.  It  will 
be  worse  than  nothing — it  will  contravene  the  spirit  of 
the  Ordinance — if  it  make  us  morose  instead  of  cheer- 
ful, or  disqualify  us  for  the  exercise  of  the  inind  in 
Prayer,  Self-examination,  and  study  of  the  Scriptures. 
Fasting  is  designed  as  a  help  to  Prayer ;  and  the  mo- 
ment it  becomes  an  hindrance,  that  moment  it  defeats 
its  own  end.  It  is  designed  also  as  a  help  to  Almsgiv- 
ing— a  retrenchment  of  our  own  superfluities  to  supply 
the  needs  of  the  poor.  Now  AlmsgiWng  can  only  be 
acceptably  practised  in  a  spirit  of  love ;  and  therefore 


132  Of  Fasting.  [part 

to  allow  Fasting  to  interfere  with  tliose  little  duties  of 
love,  kindness,  and  consideration,  which  we  owe  to 
those  around  us,  is  again  a  counteraction  of  its  end. 
For  some  constitutions,  doubtless,  the  self-control  re- 
quired of  them  lies  in  other  departments  rather  than  in 
that  of  food.  Surely  there  are  subjects  enough  in 
which  we  may  lay  a  restriction  upon  ourselves,  comforts 
enough  which  we  may  spare  for  the  good  of  others, 
superfluities  enough  which  we  may  retrench.  We  can- 
not be  at  any  real  loss  for  a  quarter  in  which  tp  exercise 
self-denial ;  and  so  long  as  it  is  wisely  and  lovingly  ex- 
ercised, the  quarter  is  a  matter  of  quite  secondary  im- 
portance. Whatever  be  the  form  which  we  adopt  of 
keeping  under  our  body  and  bringing  it  into  subjection, 
let  us  at  all  events  take  care  to  spiritualize  it  by  a  larger 
amount  of  Prayer  and  devotional  retirement,  by  medi 
tation  upon  our  sins,  by  acts  of  kindness,  by  deeds  of 
love. 

As  regarding  the  observance  of  Lent  generally,  so 
regarding  the  specific  observance  of  Fast  Days,  we  feel 
that  it  is  specially  demanded  by  the  times  on  which  we 
are  fallen.  Here  again  we  believe,  that  in  a  faithful 
adherence  to  the  system  of  our  Church  is  to  be  found  a 
remedy  for  the  tremendous  social  evils  which  ever  at- 
tend the  progress  of  Civilization,  when  that  progress 
becomes  unhealthily  rapid.  The  iniquity  of  Sodom  is 
said  to  have  consisted  in  "  pride,  fulness  of  bread, 
abundance  of  idleness,"  and  neglect  of  "  strengthening 
the  hands  of  the  poor  and  needy."  If  with  "  abun- 
dance of  idleness "  our  times  and  country  cannot  be 
justly  taxed,  the  other  traits — haughtiness,  luxury,  and 
hard-hearted  inconsiderateness — are  frightfully  exempli- 


11.1  "^f  J^osiitiff,  133 

lied  111  t»ur  neli  aiul  prosperous  comiiiuim\.  "  Fulncss 
of  bread"  especially.  The  luxuries  and  over-refine- 
ments of  the  age — all  the  manifold  softnesses  whereby 
art  contrives  to  make  life  easy,  and  to  soothe  the  little 
wearinesses,  and  minister  to  the  little  whims  of  the  opu- 
lent— remind  the  student  of  profane  history  of  the  de- 
generate effeminacy  of  manners  under  the  earlier  Ro- 
man Emperors — those  monsters  of  cruelty  and  of  lust. 
AMiile  in  the  mind  of  the  student  of  Scripture,  these 
luxuries  call  up  sterner  and  more  awful  associations,  as 
he  remembers  what  was  the  end  of  the  certain  rich 
man,  at  whoso  gate  was  laid  Lazarus  full  of  sores,  while 
he  himself  "  was  clothed  in  purple  and  fine  linen,  and 
fared  sumptuously  every  day."  The  flesh  grows  wanton 
and  insolent ;  the  spirit  just  kept  alive  in  the  nation  by 
the  august  presence  of  the  Gospel,  and  by  the  ministra- 
tions of  a  Church  whose  labors  are  totally  incommen- 
surate to  the  extent  of  her  harvest-field,  pines  and  lan- 
guishes, and  is  ready  to  die.  Now  the  remedy  for  this 
state  of  things  is  the  revival  of  the  Fast  Day — not  in 
the  narrowness  of  a  mere  literal  observance,  but  in  that 
spirit  of  humiliation  and  love  and  self-restraint,  to 
which  alone  God  has  respect.  It  was  one  of  Our  dear 
Lord's  last  warnings  to  Ilis  followers :  "  Take  heed  to 
yourselves,  lest  at  any  time  your  hearts  be  overcharged 
with  surfeiting,  and  drunkenness,  and  cares  of  this  life, 
and  so  that  day  come  upon  you  unawares."  May  this 
warning  ring  like  an  alarum  in  the  ears  of  this  soft  and 
luxurious  generation !  And  that  it  may  do  so,  let  us 
fall  at  the  knees  of  Him  who  gave  it,  with  that  Prayer 
of  our  Church,  which  in  a  few  short  lines  expresses  the 
whole  use  and  force  and  significance  of  Fasting : 


134  On  Almsgiving.  [part 

"  O  Lord,  wlio  for  our  sake  didst  fast  forty  days  and 
forty  nights :  Give  us  grace  to  use  sucli  abstinence,  that, 
our  flesh  being  subdued  to  the  Spirit,  we  may  ever  obey 
Thy  godly  motions  in  righteousness  and  true  holiness, 
to  Thy  honor  and  glory,  who  livest  and  reignest  with 
the  Father  and  the  Holy  Ghost,  one  God,  world  without 
end." 


CHAPTER  YHI. 

ox  ALMSGIVING. 

"  TJiy  p-ayers  and  thine  alms  arc  come  up  for  a  memorial  before 
God." — ^AcTS  X.  4. 

These  are  the  words,  in  which  an  angel  assures  Cor- 
nelius that  his  way  of  life  has  met  with  God's  approval. 
"  His  prayers  and  his  alms  had  come  up  for  a  memorial 
before  God."  His  own  account  of  what  the  angel  said 
to  him  notices  the  same  two  points,  with  a  very  trifling 
verbal  discrepancy  :  "  A  man  stood  before  me  in  bright 
clothing,  and  said,  Cornelius,  thy  prayer  is  heard,  and 
thine  alms  are  had  in  remembrance  in  the  sight  of  God." 
And  the  sketch  of  the  life  of  Cornelius,  drawn  by  the 
Evangelist,  has  the  same  features.  He  is  described  as 
"  a  devout  man,  and  one  that  feared  God  with  all  his 
house " — (so  much  for  his  general  character ;  now  for 
the  particular  exercises  by  which  the  character  expressed 
itself) — "  who  gave  much  alms  to  the  people,  and  prayed 
to  God  always 

This  Chapter  shall  be  devoted  to  the  subject  of 


1  i . J  On  Aim sryivinff,  i     / 

Alrasgiving;  and  wc  upcu  ii  by  observing  the  position 
Nvhich  Almsgiving  holds  in  tho  scheme  of  Christian 
liity.  "Thy  prayers  and  thine  alms."  There  is  a 
lecpcr  meaning  in  tho  circumstances  of  Prayers  and 
Alms  being  noticed  side  by  side  than  might  at  first 
sight  appear.  Alms  are  the  correlative  of  prayers. 
The  two  exercises  arc,  if  I  may  so  say,  branches  from 
a  common  stem,  which  binds  them  together.  And 
what  is  that  common  stem  ?  It  is  tho  moral  Law  of 
God ;  that  Law  to  which,  though  it  be  not  the  Cove- 
nant under  which  (as  Christian  men)  we  live,  we  must 
yet  be  conformed  as  a  rule  of  life.  The  Law  branches 
out,  as  we  know,  into  two  great  precepts — supremo  and 
unbounded  Love  to  God,  and  Love  to  our  neighbor  as 
to  ourselves.  Now  the  man  who  really  and  habitually 
prays,  the  man  who  lives  in  the  spirit  of  prayer,  fulfils 
tlie  first  great  branch  of  duty.  True  spiritual  prayer — 
"  the  eflcctual,  fervent  prayer  of  a  righteous  man,"  such 
s  was  ComeUus — is  tho  outcome  and  expression  of  a 
man's  duty  to  God.  Such  prayer  is  called  in  Scripture 
'*  incense ; "  partly  from  its  reaching  the  Throne  of  Grace, 
even  as  incense,  when  kindled,  soars  up  to  the  sky ; 
partly  from  its  spiritual  fragrance  and  acceptability. 
"  Let  my  prayer  be  set  forth  in  Thy  sight  (u  the  inn 
cense.^*  Ajid  the  man  who  gives  alms,  in  the  true  spirit 
of  almsgiving,  is  equally  fulfilling  the  second  great 
branch  of  duty.  Devout  almsgiving — such  as  was  that 
of  ComeUus,  who  "  gave  much  alms  to  the  people," 
and  that  of  the  centurion  in  the  Gospel,  who  loved  the 
Jewish  nation,  and  built  for  them  a  synagogue — is  the 
outcome  and  expression  of  a  man's  duty  to  his  neigh- 
bor.    Yet  think  not  that  the  act  passes  no  further  than 


136  On  Almsgiving.  [part 

to  our  nciglibor.  It  too,  no  less  than  prayer,  comes  up 
before  God  as  a  memorial.  It  too,  no  less  than  prayer, 
finds  in  the  fragrant,  soaring  incense  its  Scriptural  em- 
blem and  type.  "  I  have  all,  and  abound "  (says  the 
grateful  Apostle,  Avhose  need  had  been  supplied  by  his 
Philippian  converts) ;  "  I  am  full,  having  received  of 
Epaphroditus  the  things  which  were  sent  from  you ; 
dn  odor  of  a  sweet  smelly  a  sacrifice  acceptable^  well-pleas- 
ing to  Gody 

Thus,  then.  Prayer  and  Almsgiving  are  seen  to  be 
coordinate.  This  circumstance  alone  lends  a  value  to 
Almsgiving,  which  perhaps  we  have  not  been  apt  to 
attach  to  it.  Viewed  side  by  side  with  Prayer,  as  the 
expression  of  love  to  our  fellow-men,  it  assumes  a  posi- 
tion and  a  significance  which  we  never  hitherto  gave  it 
credit  for.  Nay,  if  truth  must  be  said,  we  have  been 
occasionally  somewhat  suspicious  of  Almsgiving.  In 
the  term  itself  we  have  fancied  we  heard  a  legal  ring,  as 
if  it  were  not  genuine  Gospel  coin  ;  and  some  of  us,  it 
may  be,  have  secretly  regarded  those  happy  characters, 
who  are  profuse  and  munificent  in  relieving  the  distress 
of  others,  as  seeking  to  be  justified  by  the  works  of  the 
Law  and  not  by  the  faith  of  Christ.  But  this  correla- 
tion between  Prayer  and  Alms  puts  the  subject  in  a  new 
light.  Almsgiving  need  be  no  more  a  work  of  human 
merit  than  Prayer  is.  Neither  Almsgiving  nor  Prayer 
can  justify  the  sinner.  No  almsgiving,  however  profuse, 
and  no  prayer,  however  fervent,  can  wipe  away  a  single 
stain  of  guilt  from  the  soul.  That  is  the  special  and 
exclusive  prerogative  of  the  Blood  of  Christ's  Atone- 
ment. But  both  Prayer  and  Almsgiving — the  one  as 
well  as  the  other — "  come  up  for  a  memorial  before  God," 


II.]  On  Almsgiving,  *187 

when  offorod  to  Him  in  faith,  even  in  such  imperfect 
aod  inchoate  faith  as  that  of  Cornelius  must  have  been, 
before  he  heard  the  preaching  of  the  Gospel  from  the 
Apostle  Peter. 

It  must  however  be  obvious  that,  as  it  is  not  every 
so-called  Prayer,  so  it  is  not  every  so-called  Alms,  of 
which  the  great  things  that  have  been  said  above  can 
with  truth  be  predicated.  We  have  been  speaking  of 
Prayer  in  its  broadest  sense,  as  embracing  every  form 
of  communion  with  God ;  and  of  Alms  also  we  have 
been  speaking  in  the  broadest  sense  which  the  terra 
will  bear ;  not  merely  as  an  occasional  dole  to  the  poor, 
but  as  the  relief  of  human  distress  from  a  deep  living 
sympathy  with  man's  sufferings  and  sorrows.  I  have 
looked  at  Almsgiving  for  the  moment  as  the  genuine 
expression  of  Christian  Charity,  just  as  I  have  looked 
at  Prayer  for  the  moment  as  the  genuine  expression  of 
Christian  Piety.  But  this,  we  know,  is  by  no  means 
the  case  with  every  Alms  and  every  Prayer.  Both  in 
the  case  of  Prayers  and  of  Alms  the  act  has,  in  the 
sadly  degenerate  practice  of  Christians,  become  detached 
from  the  spirit  which  should  animate  it,  and  which 
alone  can  render  it  acceptable.  Prayer  is  performed  by 
multitudes  (performance,  alas !  is  the  correct  word) 
without  the  smallest  sense  of  its  being  a  privilege  or  a 
refreshment,  merely  because  conscience  or  the  usages  of 
society  exact  a  certain  measure  of  it  And  Alms,  simi- 
larly, are  extorted  reluctantly  from  the  majority  of  those 
who  givo  them,  with  a  feeling  that  any  petition  for 
them,  whether  coming  from  the  persons  in  need,  or 
from  the  minister  of  God  acting  in  their  behalf,  is  an 
importunity  of  which  we  would  willingly  be  rid.     It 


138  On  Almsgiving.  [part 

cannot  be  imagined  that  sucli  Prayers  or  such  Akns 
have  any  acceptability  on  high. 

Let  US  inquire  then  in  what  spirit  Alms  may  be  so 
given  as  to  come  up  for  a  memorial  before  God.  And 
may  God  bless  our  reflections  on  this  subject,  not  only 
to  the  enlightenment  of  the  understanding,  but  to  the 
stimulating  and  strengthening  of  our  wills ! 

Pursuing  then  still  the  parallel  between  Prayers  and 
Alms,  which  has  been  already  drawn  Qut,  we  remark 
that  both  these  oflferings  to  God  must  be  ma4e,  not  on 
casual  impulse,  not  as  the  mere  inspiration  of  a  happy 
moment,  but  on  principle..  As  regards  Prayer,  this  is 
generally  acknowledged,  and  need  scarcely  be  pressed. 
No  one,  it  may  be  presumed,  thinks  that  he  has  acquit- 
ted himself  of  his  duty  as  a  Christian,  unless  he  has 
offered  Prayer  systematically  and  periodically.  No  one 
probably  could  satisfy  his  conscience  by  lifting  up  his 
heart  to  God  only  when  he  found  himself  in  a  happy 
frame  for  doing  so.  Acceptable  as  such  a  plan  might 
be  to  our  natural  indolence,  it  would  scarcely  approve 
itself  to  our  minds  as  right,  if  we  should  say,  "  I  shall 
abandon  stated  Prayer  altogether ;  I  shall  leave  Prayer 
for  those  happy  moments,  few  and  far  between,  like  an- 
gels* visits,  when  the  mind  is  released  from  care,  made 
complacent  by  good  health,  good  spirits,  and  good  for- 
tune ;  or  when  it  is  inclined  to  serious  thought  by  a 
good  Sermon  or  by  a  visitation  of  Providence."  How- 
ever such  a  plan  might  defend  itself  argumcntatively 
as  a  method  of  avoiding  formalism  and  unreaUty  in 
Prayer,  the  instinct  of  the  Christian  mind  would  at 
once  repudiate  it  as  wrong.  In  the  first  place,  the  duty 
which  is  left  for  performance  at  a  convenient  season  is 


u.  I  On  Almsgiving,  139 

too  sure,  according  to  the  ordinary  laws  of  human  expe- 
rience, to  find  no  season  wliich  is  convenient ;  and  he 
who  defers  sjiiling  till  ho  has  wind,  weather,  and  tide  all 
in  his  favor,  is  apt  to  cud  by  never  setting  sail  at  all. 
In  the  second  pbice,  Prayer  is  not  simply  (or  chiefly) 
for  the  edification  of  the  individual  soul  (in  which  case 
there  might,  perhaps,  bo  some  reason  in  deferring  it  till 
we  could  perform  it  with  sensible  profit  and  compla- 
cency) ;  it  is  also  an  act  of  homage  to  Almighty  God, 
a  recognition  of  His  cliiim  upon  our  time,  our  thoughts, 
and  the  best  energies  of  our  minds.  If  our  Prayers 
arc  to  have  any  significance  in  this  latter  view  of  them, 
if  they  are  not  merely  to  please  ourselves  by  the  indul- 
gence of  pious  sentiments,  but  to  honor  God,  they  must 
be  offered  systematically  and  methodically.  We  must 
pray  when  we  rise  up ;  we  must  pray  when  we  lie  down ; 
we  must  join  in  the  prayers  of  the  congregation  on 
Sundays  and  Holy  Days.  All  tliis  is  conceded  as  re- 
gards Prayer ;  but,  as  regards  Almsgiving,  how  differ- 
ent is  the  view  generally  taken  of  this  subject,  and  how 
miserably  uncertain  and  precarious  the  practice  which 
prevails !  Instead  of  recognizing  a  certain  portion  of 
their  earnings  or  income  as  being  due  to  Almighty  God, 
and  as  being  a  sicrcd  fund,  which  must  be  spent  in  the 
course  of  the  year  on  works  of  Piety  and  Charity,  the 
modem  Christian  abandons  himself,  for  the  most  part, 
to  the  appeal^  which  are  made  to  him  on  behalf  of  Phil- 
anthropic objects,  and  helps  those  objects  only  where 
his  sensibilities  are  stirred  in  their  favor.  Eis  benefi- 
cence is  not  an  organized  work  at  all ;  it  is  an  occasional 
and  irregular  impulse.  A  Charity  Sermon,  which  he 
happens  to  hear,  awakens  in  him  a  kindly  interest  in 


140  On  Almsgiving.  [part 

the  institution  advocated ;  and  lie  gives,  if  lie  has  the 
money  mth  him ;  if  not,  he  determines  to  give ;  bul 
often,  in  the  pressure  and  hurry  of  the  week's  work,  hi? 
ardor  cools,  and  his  resolution  is  forgotten.  Then  there 
are  cases  of  distress  personally  known  to  him,  which  he 
relieves  with  more  or  less  generosity  according  to  the 
liveliness  of  the  interest  which  he  feels  in  them.  But 
he  has  no  idea,  because  he  has  never  been  at  the  pain? 
to  make  the  reckoning,  what  proportion  his  alms  bear 
to  his  resources  ;  he  has  never  asked  himself  the  ques- 
tion, or  at  least  has  never  seriously  prosecuted  it  to  an 
answer :  "  Do  they  bear  a  fair  proportion  ;  a  proportion 
which  satisfies  ray  own  convictions  of  what  is  right  1 
because,  if  they  do  not,  I  am  quite  determined  they 
shall." 

Modem  Almsgiving  being  thus,  for  the  most  part, 
the  result  of  good  impulse,  rather  than  of  principle,  the 
system  of  things  has  adjusted  itself  to  the  sentiments 
of  the  majority.  Money  must  be  had  for  the  various 
objects  of  benevolence ;  and,  as  it  is  not  to  be  had  upon 
principle,  it  must  be  had  by  an  appeal  to  our  sensibili 
ties,  or  even  by  more  questionable  methods.  Induce 
ments  to  give  are  held  out  by  the  showy  and  exagger- 
ated oratory  of  the  pubHc  meeting,  by  the  gayety  and 
little  dissipation  of  the  bazaar,  or  the  luxury  and  social 
intercourse  of  the  public  dinner  ;  these  being  the  baits 
by  which  money,  may  be  caught  even  from  those  who 
never  part  with  it  from  higher  motives.  The  least  ob- 
jectionable form  in  which  these  appeals  are  made  is 
that  of  the  Charity  Sermon.  A  Charity  Sermon,  ac- 
cording to  the  accepted  definition  of  it,  means  the  pa- 
thetic exposition  by  a  preacher  of  some  object  of  be 


II.]  On  Almsgiving,  141 

nevolcncc,  designed  to  work  upon  the  sensibilities  of 
the  hearers,  and  to  draw  from,  them  assistance  in  the 
way  of  money.  If  this  ia  done  with  simplicity,  and 
without  aiming  at  rhetorical  effect,  and  if  the  special 
object  is  always  subordinated  to  the  great  end  of  in- 
struction in  Divine  Truth  (the  sacred  province  of  the 
Christian  pulpit),  the  proceeding  is  quite  unobjection- 
able, and  may  be  productive  of  good.  Nor,  probably, 
in  the  present  state  of  Christian  sentiment,  could  any 
better  method  of  raising  funds  for  a  good  object  be  de- 
vised ?  But  even  the  Charity  Sermon  is  not  the  theo- 
retically high  and  true  way  of  obtaining  supplies  for  a 
desirable  object  If  the  standard  of  Christian  senti 
ment  and  practice  were  higher,  if  it  at  all  resembled 
what  it  was  in  early  days,  before  Christian  zeal  and  love 
cooled  dovm.  Charity  Sermons  would  be  unnecessary. 
The  Apostolic  advice  on  the  subject  of  Alms  runs  thus 
(and  if  every  Christian  would  act  on  the  principle  of 
this  adnce,  all  occasional  appeals  on  behalf  of  good  ob- 
jects would  be  superseded  and  extinguished) :  "  Now 
concerning  the  collection  for  the  saints,  as  I  have  given 
order  to  the  churches  of  Galatia,  even  so  do  ye.  Upon 
the  first  day  of  the  week  let  every  one  of  you  lay  by 
him  in  store,  as  God  hath  prospered  him,  that  there  be 
no  gatherings  when  I  come ; "  that  is  to  say  (extracting 
the  spirit  of  the  precept  from  its  letter),  "  Periodically 
examine  your  earnings,  and  set  apart  a  due  and  fair 
proportion  of  them  for  works  of  Piety  and  Charity. 
Let  that  proportion  constitute  a  separate  fund,  and 
when  objects  of  benevolence  are  brought  before  you, 
assist  them  out  of  that  fund."  The  Primitive  Church 
acted  on  the  letter  of  this  Apostolical  precept ;  and  a 


142  On  Almsgiving.  [part 

trace  of  their  practice  is  still  to  be  found  in  that  part  of 
the  Office  of  the  Holy  Communion  which  is  called  the 
Offertory.  In  the  course  of  the  Liturgy  (or  Service  of 
the  Communion)  offerings  either  of  money,  or  of  food 
and  clothing,  were  made  by  all  members  of  the  congre- 
gation who  did  not  lie  under  any  Church  censure. 
These  offerings  were  afterward  divided  into  four  parts. 
The  first  part  went  to  the  relief  of  the  poor ;  the  sec- 
ond to  the  maintenance  of  the  Bishop ;  the  third  part 
defrayed  the  expenses  of  the  sacred  fabric  and  its  orna- 
ments ;  the  fourth  was  divided  among  the  subordinate 
Clergy.  Indeed,  from  a  remarkable  passage  of  St. 
Chrysostora,  it  would  seem  that  the  early  Christians 
never  entered  the  Church  to  pray  without  giving  alms 
to  the  poor,  some  of  whom  were  stationed  at  the  Church 
door  for  the  purpose.  So  deeply  was  the  mind  of  our 
forefathers  in  the  faith  imbued  with  the  connection  be- 
tween Prayers  and  Alms  ;  so  thoroughly  were  they  in- 
oculated with  the  Scriptural  view  that  acts  of  homage 
to  God  must  go  hand  in  hand  with  acts  of  love  of  man. 
Now,  without  asserting  that  exactly  the  same  form 
of  Almsgiving  would  suit  the  present  altered  state  of 
things,  without  maintaining  (as  nevertheless  many  wise 
and  good  men  do)  that  the  Offertory  and  the  alms-chest 
could  even  now  be  advantageously  made  the  medium 
of  giving  all  that  is  given  for  the  Service  of  God,  and 
the  relief  of  the  poor,  we  may  surely  say  that  the  prin- 
ciple of  these  primitive  offerings  is  as  applicable  as  ever, 
and  that,  if  it  were  conscientiously  applied  by  ever?/ 
Christian,  the  result  would  be  an  abundance  of  means 
for  every  good  object,  which  would  quite  supersede 
these  occasional  appeals.     The  principle  is,  to  be  sys- 


II.  I  On  Almsgiving.  143 

tematic,  regular,  and  methodical  in  our  Alms,  instead 
of  casual  and  impulsive.  All  that  is  necessary  in  order 
to  this  is  a  little  time,  a  little  trouble  (very  little  of 
either),  and  perhaps,  I  sliould  add,  a  little  moral  cour- 
age. Let  us  first  settle  with  our  own  minds,  as  in  the 
sight  of  God,  what  proportion  of  our  income  is  duo  to 
works  of  Piety  and  Charity.  The  proportion  will  vary 
much ;  for  it  is  clear  that  the  same  proportion  will  be 
much  more  severely  felt  when  subtracted  from  a  very 
narrow  income,  than  when  it  is  the  mere  exuberant 
"verflow  of  a  very  largo  one.  No  one  man  can  lay 
lown  a  rule  for  another  in  this  respect ;  the  only  point 
of  importance  is,  that  we  would  satisfy  not  the  expecta- 
tions of  others,  but  the  requirements  of  an  enlightened 
and  a  pure  conscience  in  ourselves,  or,  in  other  words, 
the  claims  of  God.  The  proportion  having  been  set- 
tled, all  that  follows  is  more  or  less  mechanical,  and 
may  be  done  with  a  very  slight  expenditure  of  time. 
A  private  account  is  opened,  exhibiting  on  one  side  all 
our  receipts,  on  the  other  every  item  of  our  charitable 
expenditure.  Periodically  the  account  is  examined. 
If  it  should  appear  that  the  sum  of  our  charitable  ex- 
penditure comes  up  to  the  proportion  we  have  deter- 
mined upon,  well  and  good ;  we  have  done  our  duty, 
and  have  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  we  have  done 
it  Should  it  exceed  the  proportion,  the  excess  may  be 
balanced  (though  I  think  it  scarcely  ever  will  be)  by  a 
retrenchment  of  charity  in  the  succeeding  period.  But 
should  it  fall  short  of  the  proportion,  it  may  be  made  a 
point  of  conscience  at  once  to  seal  up  the  deficit,  and 
send  it  oflf  to  the  best  Charitable  Institution  we  know 
of.     If  every  one  would  act  thus — poor  as  well  as  rich— 


144  On  Almsgiving.  [part 

and  tlie  poor  are  quite  as  mucli  bound  to  give  tlieir 
small  proportion  as  the  ricli  tlieir  large  one — I  believe 
tbat  the  resources  of  deserving  Charities  would  never 
fail.  It  is  because  Charities  are  thrown  upon  impulse, 
instead  of  principle,  for  their  supplies,  and  because  im- 
pulse is  so  fitful  and  casual  a  thing,  that  the  funds  of 
most  of  them  fall  off"  as  soon  as  the  enthusiasm  which 
started  them  subsides.  But  benefits  of  a  much  higher 
kind  would  accrue  from  the  exercise  of  systematic  be- 
nevolence— benefits,  whose  sphere  is  the  spirit  and 
moral  being  of  the  giver.  It  contributes  greatly  to  that 
peace  of  mind,  which  is  so  essential  an  element  of  spir- 
itual progress,  to  be  assured  that  to  the  extent  of  our 
ability  we  are  fulfilling  our  religious  obligations.  This 
assurance  we  can  have  respecting  Almsgiving,  only  if 
we  are  giving  on  principle  and  methodically.  And 
another  happy  effect  of  this  methodical  giving  on  the 
mind  will  be — that  the  very  satisfactoriness  of  the  pro- 
cess is  likely  to  lead  to  a  further  advance  in  the  same 
direction.  He  who  has  conscientiously  given  one-twen- 
tieth this  year  will  feel  urged  to  give  a  tenth  the  next. 
The  appetite  for  Christian  liberality  will  grow,  when  it 
is  healthily  indulged,  instead  of  morbidly  stimulated. 
And  that  wretched  feeling  that  every  fresh  charitable 
appeal  is  an  exaction,  would  wholly  cease,  when  we 
know  that  a  sum  has  been  set  apart  for  expenditure  of 
this  kind  in  one  form  or  another ;  and  our  gift  would 
have  that  element  of  alacrity  and  forwardness  essential 
to  its  acceptability ;  it  would  be  given  in  the  spirit  pre- 
scribed by  the  Apostle  :  "  Let  every  man  do  according 
as  he  is  disposed  in  his  heart,  not  grudgingly,  or  of 
necessity ;  for  God  loveth  a  cheerful  giver." 


II.  I  On  Almsgiving,  145 

The  whole  of  what  has  been  said  is  an  expansion  ot, 
and  reduces  iUcIf  to,  the  one  idea,  that  Alms  should  be 
given  on  principle.  Ahus  and  Prayers  are  coordinate 
exercises  of  Piety ;  they  are  both  of  them  oflcrings  to 
(Jod ;  and  as,  in  the  one  case,  we  must  bo  careful  not 
to  rob  God  of  the  time  and  the  mental  effort,  so,  in  the 
other,  we  must  be  equally  careful  not  to  rob  liim  of  the 
gold  and  silver,  which  are  Uis  due.  A  portion  of  our 
time  must  be  fenced  round  from  the  intrusion  of  worldly 
cares  and  secular  business,  if  we  are  to  discharge  God's 
claims  upon  us.  And  on  the  same  principle  a  portion 
of  our  substance  must  be  regarded  as  a  sacred  treasury, 
not  to  be  invaded  by  our  own  necessities,  much  less  by 
our  self-indulgence,  and  love  of  luxury. 

The  offerings  made  to  God  out  of  this  treasury — if 
made  with  faith  in  His  Name — are  represented  in  Holy 
Scripture  as  memorials  of  us  in  Heaven.  How  inspir- 
ing the  thought  that  we  may  have  such  memorials — 
deeds  which  may  serve  (so  to  speak)  to  embalm  our 
names,  and  keep  them  ever  fresh  and  fragrant  in  that 
bright  and  cloudless  realm  I  The  believing  and  beauti- 
ful action  of  the  woman  in  the  Gospel  who  anointed 
Our  Lord's  head,  as  He  sat  at  meat  in  Simon's  house, 
was  to  be  rewarded — ^has  been  rewarded — in  a  similar 
manner.  Wheresoever  the  Gospel  has  been  preached 
in  the  whole  world,  that  woman's  act  of  faith  and  piety 
has  been  rehearsed,  commended,  echoed  on  from  the 
fathers  to  the  children.  A  fame  more  glorious  than 
hers,  a  memorial  more  rich  in  its  results  and  conse- 
quences, as  being  a  memorial  not  among  men,  but  be- 
fore God,  is  open  to  all  of  us  who  hear  the  Gospel. 
Do  yon  desire  that  your  name  should  be  known  in 
7 


146         On  Frequenting  the  Holy  Communion,     [part 

Heaven — sliould  be  whispered  and  carried  upward  by 
the  angels — should  be  graven  on  the  heart  of  our  great 
High  Priest — should  be  mentioned  by  Him  to  God 
continually?  Aspire  to  Heaven  with  devout  prayers 
and  sighs.  Seek  Christ  with  devout  sympathies  and 
devout  succors,  in  the  poor,  whom  He  has  constituted 
His  representatives.  Multiply  acts  of  faith,  and  acts  of 
love.  And  these  acts  shall  keep  alive  the  remembrance 
of  you  in  the  Heavenly  Court,  where  no  remembrance 
is  without  a  requital.  Cornelius  was  recompensed  for 
his  prayers  and  alms,  by  the  visit  of  an  Angel,  by  the 
visit  of  an  Apostle,  by  the  glad  tidings  of  the  Gospel, 
and,  to  crown  all,  by  the  gift  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  How 
striking  an  instance  of  the  large  and  munificent  scale, 
on  which  God  responds  to  the  desires  and  efforts  which 
His  own  free  Grace  has  prompted — of  His  "  giving 
more  "  (as  is  His  wont)  "  than  either  we  desire  ©r  de- 
serve ! "  How  wonderful  a  fulfilment  of  the  promise 
made  by  Our  Lord  both  to  secret  Alms  and  secret 
Prayers — "  Thy  Father,  which  seeth  in  secret,  Himself 
shall  reward  thee  openly !  " 


CHAPTER  IX. 

ON  FEEQUENTING  THE  HOLY  COMMUNION. 

"  Whether  therefore  ye  eat,  or  drink,  or  whatsoever  ye  do,  do  all 
to  the  glory  of  God:'—!  Cok.  x.  31. 

It  is  curious  to  observe  how  religious  ideas  are  con- 
tinually in  a  state  of  flux  and  change.     Not  only  do 


n.]         On  Frequenting  ike  Holy  Communion,        147 

outward  fashions  alter,  but  habits  of  thought  are 
diflercnt  from  what  they  onco  wore.  Controversies 
have  shifted  their  ground ;  and  the  theological  com- 
batiuits  have  gone  off  to  a  different  part  of  the  field. 
Time  was  when  many  a  controversial  lance  was  broken 
in  our  Church  on  the  question  at  issue  bet\\een 
Calvinists  and  Arminians.  The  keen  interest  once 
taken  in  that  debate  has  entirely  collapsed ;  and  think- 
ing men  on  both  sides  would  probably  admit  that  there 
is  much  precious  truth  in  both  Calvinism  and  Armi- 
nianism, — which  is  only  another  form  of  saying  that 
Holy  Scripture  makes  statements  which  favour  both. 
To  pass  from  doctrines  to  practices  (not  that  the  two 
can  ever  be  severed  except  in  idea,  for  practice  must 
ever  bo  based  upon  doctrine),  there  is  now  in  progress 
a  revolution  in  our  habits  of  thought  on  the  subject 
of  frequently  communicating.  Serious  Christians  are 
coming  round  gradually,  it  is  presumed  by  the  force  of 
conviction,  to  the  habit  of  communicating  much 
oftener  than  they  used  to  do.  More  frequent  oppor- 
tunities  of  receiving  the  holy  Supper  are  given  by  tlio 
Clergy ;  an  index  in  itself  of  a  changed  state  of  thought 
and  feeling  on  the  subject ;  for  where  there  is  no  de- 
mand, there  is  usually  no  supply.  And,  accordingly, 
the  old  manuals  of  preparation  for  the  Holy  Commu- 
nion, excellent  as  several  of  them  are,  and  containing, 
as  many  of  them  do,  much  valuable  material  for  edifi- 
cation, are  becoming,  to  a  great  extent,  obsolete.  They 
need  to  be  thrown  into  a  new  form,  adapted  to  a 
weekly  or  fortnightly  recurrence  of  the  Ordinance. 
For  that  the  copious  meditations  and  self-examinations, 
which  most  of  them  contain  and  recommend,  should  be 
gone  through  weekly,  fortnightly, — nay,  even  monthly, 
—by  persons  engaged  in  the  active  business  of  life,  is  of 


148         On  frequenting  the  Holy  Co7nmunio7i.    [pari 

course  out  of  the  question, — a  simple  impossibility.  A 
volume  of  preparatory  devotions,  (and  several  of  these 
manuals  are  volumes,)  implies  that  the  Ordinance 
recurs  but  rarely,  at  great  and  solemn  periods. 

Is  the  old  method  of  rare  Communion,  or  the  new 
method  of  frequent  Communion,  the  best  ?  We  believe 
the  new  method  to  be  so,  because  it  is  based  upon  a 
truer  view  of  the  Ordinance.  The  frequency  or  rarity 
of  celebration  would  be  in  itself  of  comparatively  little 
moment,  if  it  were  a  mere  outward  fashion,  if  there 
were  no  principle  involved  in  it.  But  a  principle  there 
is,  underlying,'  and  giving  rise  to,  the  change  of  prac- 
tice ;  and  we  rejoice  to  think  that  this  principle  is 
more  freely  and  generally  recognized  than  it  has 
hitherto  been. 

If  the  Eucharist  were  merely,  as  Zwingle  most 
erroneously  thought,  a  commemorative  rite, — if  the 
whole  design  of  the  Ordinance  were  to  affect  us  with  a 
picture  of  our  Saviour's  Passion,  this  design  would 
doubtless  be  carried  out  more  effectively  by  a  rare  than 
by  a  frequent  Communion.  For  it  is  a  law  of  the 
mind,  from  the  operation  of  which  we  shall  strive  in 
vain  to  exempt  ourselves,  that  the  impression  which  is 
constantly  repeated  gradually  loses  its  force.  But  the 
Lord's  Supper  is  not  merely  a  commemoration,  but  an 
actual  channel  or  vehicle  of  Grace  to  the  soul.  It  stands 
on  the  same  footing  in  tliis  respect  with  Prayer,  reading 
of  Scripture,  public  worship,  and  sermons ;  only  we  be- 
lieve that  it  takes  precedence  of  them  all,  as  the  instru- 
ment of  a  higher  Grate,  and  a  means  of  a  closer  commu- 
nion with  God.  Observe  that  by  the  Word  of  God  itself, 
the  Eucharist  is  placed  in  the  same  category  with  the 
other  means  of  Grace,  and  that  it  seems  to  be  intimated 
that  the  early  Christians  were  equally  frequent  in  the 


n.]         On  Frequenting  the  Ilolif  Comm^in ion.         MO 

observance  of  all  of  them.  "  And  thcyN^or^^mued  sted-' 
fast  in  the  Apostles*  doctrine  and  fcllowshtp^iHhcycon- 
stantly  attended  the  teaching  of  the  Apostlcs/Itnd  did 
not  forsake  the  assembling  of  themselves  together  with 
them  in  the  name  of  Christ),  "  and  in  breaking  of 
breadj  and  in  prayers**  There  is  no  hint  hero  that  the 
doctrine  and  the  prayers  were  to  be  of  frequent  recur- 
rencc,  but  the  breaking  of  Bread  to  be  reserved,  as  I 
may  say,  for  state  occasions.  If  all  are  moans  of 
Grace,  and  if  the  **  breaking  of  Bread,"  as  being  the 
distinctly  Christian  Ordinance, — yea,  as  communicating 
to  the  soul,  not  indeed  by  a  carnal  transubstantiation, 
but  "after  an  heavenly  and  spiritual  manner,"  the  very 
Body  and  Blood  of  our  crucified  Redeemer, — is  the 
highest  means  of  Grace,  why  should  not  all  recur  with 
equal  frequency  ?  Do  wo  allege  that  the  liveliness  of 
our  feelings  respecting  the  Lord's  Supper  will  wear  off 
with  the  frequent  repetition  of  it  1  Nay  ;  but  it  is  not 
liveliness  of  feeling  which  in  any  Ordinance  we  should 
seek,  but  the  strengthening  of  principle.  The  two  ob- 
jects are  quite  distinct.  Feeling  occasionally  runs  very 
high,  when  principle  is  at  its  lowest  ebb.  Church  his- 
tory supplies  instances  in  abundance  of  spiritual  ecsta- 
sies (mere  Satanic  delusions,  of  course),  where  there 
was  no  real  submission  of  the  will  to  God.  And  on 
the  other  hand,  principle  may  be  in  its  full  strength, 
and  faith  may  bo  really  clinging  to  God  with  all  the 
force  of  moral  determination,  while  feeling  seems  to 
have  ebbed  away  altogether  out  of  the  soul.  Thus  Our 
I^rd  cries  out  upon  the  cross  that  God  has  forsaken 
Him,  while  He  is  really  tightening  His  hold  upon  the 
Father,  and  indicating  this  firmness  of  grasp  by  the 
little  word  expressive  of  so  much  clinging,  "My,**— 
"  My  God,  my  God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken  met  " 


150         0)1  Freque7iting  the  Holy  Co7nmu7iion.    [paet 

If  superficial  liveliness  of  feeling  were  what  we 
ought  to  seek  in  the  Ordinances  of  religion,  there  could 
be  no  question  that  too  frequent  repetition  in  any  of 
them  would  be  a  mistake,  calculated  to  counteract  their 
influence.  If  for  the  next  two  years  we  shut  up  our 
Bibles,  and  thus  divested  our  minds  in  some  measure 
of  their  glib  familiarity  with  the  phraseology  of  Scrip- 
ture, and  at  the  end  of  the  period  op'ened  them  at  one 
of  the  more  pathetic  or  sublime  passages,  that  passage 
would  stir  in  our  minds  a  far  more  vivid,  emotion,  than 
Scripture  ever  communicates  under  our  preseat  circum- 
stances. At  the  first  outbreak  of  the  Reformation, 
when  the  Sacred  Volume  was  scarce,  and  the*  people 
sunk  in  gross  ignorance  of  its  truths,  men  had  a  much 
keener  appreciation  of  it,  a  much  livelier  feeling  of  its 
preciousnessthan  now,  when  it  lies  on  the  shelf  of  every 
cottage,  and  its  comparatively  fresh-looking  binding 
shows  the  neglect  in  w^hich  spiritual  blessings  are  held, 
as  i^oon  as  they  have  become  cheap,  and  easy  of  access. 
But  in  order  that  we  might  again  have  those  vivid  im- 
pressions respecting  God's  truth  which  men  had  in  those 
old  days,  when  they  gathered  round  the  chained  Bible 
in  the  parish  church,  and  appointed  one  of  their  party 
to  read  it  aloud  to  them,  it  would  be  a  strange  method 
of  proceeding,  and  one  based  on  a  false  logic,  to  unlearn 
as  much  of  this  blessed  Book  as  we  possibly  could,  in 
the  hope  of  thus  coming  fresh  to  the  perusal  of  it. 
Then  why  is  not  the  same  reasoning,  which  holds  good 
in  the  case  of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  to  be  applicable  to 
other  means  of  Grace  ?  If  all  we  sought  in  the  Eu- 
charist w^ere  a  certain  natural  sensibility  to  the  Death 
of  Christ,  which  Death  the  Ordinance  is  appointed  to 
show  forth,  then  indeed  might  we  go  once  a  year 
only,  like  the  Scottish  peasants,  over  hill   and  dale, 


n.]         On  Frequenting  the  Holy  Communion,        151 

to  partake  of  the  Heavenly  Banquet: — then  indeed 
might  we  enjoy  the  artlcssness  with  which  the  rite  is 
there  celebrated,  as  being  a  nearer  approach  to  the 
original  institution  in  ike  wat/  of  jncture.  But  I  seek 
much  more  in  the  Eucharist  than  to  look  at  a  picture 
and  be  touched  by  it.  I  seek  to  be  fed  in  tliat  holy 
Ordinance;  to  be  spiritually  nourished,  through  the 
clcmcjits  of  Bread  and  AVine,  with  that  Flesh  whicli 
is  meat  indeed,  and  that  Blood  which  is  drink  indeed. 
And  if  the  things  of  the  body  furnish  any  sufficient 
analogy  to  the  things  of  the  soul,  I  should  fear  that 
the  receiving  this  Heavenly  Food  only  once  a  year 
would  be  something  very  much  resembling  spiritual 
starvation. 

Yet,  argue  as  we  may,  our  arguments  will  go  for 
nothing  against  instinct.  And  in  devout  minds  which 
have  been  reared  under  the  old  system  of  things,  there 
is  an  instinct  adverse  to  very  frequent  Communions, 
Vhich  it  is  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  to  supplant.  Wo 
believe  that  in  this  instinct  there  is  an  element  of  rea- 
son and  reverence,  however  false  may  be  the  conclusions 
to  which  it  leads ;  and  that  at  all  events  our  forefathers 
had  hold  of  a  truth,  for  which  it  behoves  us  to  find 
some  place  in  the  modern  system.  Let  us  endeavor 
to  analyse  the  feeling  of  reluctance  which  many  good 
persons  still  entertain  to  a  frequent  (say  a  weekly) 
Communion. 

Unquestionably,  reverence  towards  the  Ordinance 
has  some  share  in  engendering  the  reluctance.  It  is 
felt,  and  very  justly  felt,  that  in  order  to  make  so  fre- 
quent a  Communion  of  real  value  to  us,  there  must  be 
a  general  correspondence  between  the  Ordinance  and 
our  lives.  There  is  something  dreadful  in  the  thought 
of  so  high  an  Ordinance  degenerating  into  formality ; 


152         On  Frequenting  the  Holy  Communion,    [paki 

and  degenerate  into  formality  it  must,  unless,  contem- 
poraneously with  this  frequent  celebration,  there  should 
be  a  general  raising  of  the  tone  of  the  recipient's  char- 
acter and  conduct.  This  is  all  true,  just,  and  sound, — 
right  in  feeling ;  right  in  principle.  But  why  should 
wc  implicitly  reject  the  other  branch  of  the  alter- 
native ?  Why  is  there  not  to  be  a  general  raising  of 
the  tone  of  our  character  and  conduct?  Why  should 
we  resolve  to  acquiesce  in  respectability,  and  virtually 
decline  to  aim  at  sanctity  ?  Ah,  sluggish  will,  thou 
art  in  fault !  Frequent  Communions  demand  higher 
aspirations  ;  and  higher  aspirations  involve  stronger  ef- 
forts and  harder  struggles.  And  these  efforts  and 
struggles  are  a  tax  upon  the  will,  which  the  will  per- 
haps is  not  quite  ready  to  pay.  Is  this  the  secret 
cause  of  our  reluctance?  I  believe  it  is  frequently 
one  cause.  For  if  a  man  be  honestly  bent,  not 
merely  on  reaching  a  very  fair  average  standard  of 
excellence,  but  on  "  perfecting  holiness  in  the  fear  of 
the  Lord,"  the  reluctance  very  soon  vanishes.  Fre- 
quent Communion  is  then  willingly  embraced  as  a 
help,  not  declined  out  of  a  false  homage  to  the 
Ordinance. 

But  what,  it  may  be  asked,  constitutes  conformity 
of  life  to  the.  Ordinance  of  the  Holy  Communion  ? 
What  is  that  habitual  state,  the  living  in  which  (more 
or  less)  establishes  that  correspondence  between  us  and 
the  Ordinance,  which  makes  a  very  frequent  reception 
available  ?  Let  the  text  which  stands  at  the  head  of  this 
Chapter  furnish  us  with  an  answer  to  this  question. 

It  is  a  great  mystery,  which  teaches  us  many  valu- 
able lessons,  that  God  has  consecrated  our  reception  of 
food  into  the  highest  Ordinance  of  religion.  What  may 
this   circumstance    be   designed    to   teach   us?      The 


li.]         On  Frequenting  Uie  Holy  Communion,        153 

lesson  expressly  stated  in  the  text,  "  Whether  there- 
fore ye  cat,  or  drink,  or  whatsoever  yo  do,  do  all  to  the 
glory  of  God."  The  reception  of  food  is  a  common 
action, — homely,  trivial,  having  nothing  dignified  or 
sublime  about  it,  as  is  intimated  by  the  words,  "  what- 
soever ye  do,"  following  upon  the  specification  of  it, — 
**  Whether  therefore  yo  cat,  or  drink,  or  whatsoever  ye 
do,  do  all  to  the  glory  of  God."  And  again,  the  re- 
ception of  food  is  a  necessary  action, — it  is  what  we 
must  do,  in  order  to  maintain  our  lives.  Tlic  implica- 
tion  of  the  text,  then,  is  that  in  our  common  and  trivial 
actions,  even  in  those  which  are  bound  upon  us  by 
necessity,  and  which  wo  cannot  any  how  escape  from 
doing, — there  is  room  and  scope  for  glorifying  Almighty 
God.  On  the  one  hand,  we  may  do  them  mechanically 
and  in  a  spirit  of  routine,  or  from  the  low  motive  of  the 
pleasure  which  is  to  be  had  from  them,  or  from  the 
wrong  motive  of  human  praise.  Or,  on  the  other  hand, 
wo  may  do  them,  or  strive  to  do  them,  in  a  religious 
spirit,  fixing  the  eye  of  the  mind,  while  we  do  them, 
on  the  gfeat  end  of  God's  Service  and  Kingdom.  In 
one  word,  we  may  either  go  through  common  life  in  a 
common  way,  tying  up  our  religion  to  Public  Worship 
on  Sundays,  and  private  prayer  on  week-days,  or  we  may 
go  through  common  life  with  an  uncommon  motive, 
— the  thought  of  God,  and  the  desire  of  pleasing  and 
serving  Him  in  all  things.  Now  if  a  man  should  be 
going  through  common  life  thus, — if  he  sanctifies  and 
elevates  it,  or  even  strives,  as  much  as  ho  can,  to 
sanctify  and  elevate  it,  by  importing  into  it  a  Christian 
motive,  there  is  between  him  and  the  Holy  Communion 
a  certain  correspondence,  which  is  easily  perceived. 
What  were  the  materials  out  of  which  Christ  framed 
the  highest  rite  of  His  holy  Religioff?  Did  Ho  pre- 
scribe a  costly  sacrifice,  such  as  it  would  be  a  tax  upon 


154         On  Frequenting  the  Holy  Commu7iion,    [pakt 

human  resources  to  furnish  ?  No  such  thing.  He 
blessed  a  common  meal,  and  consecrated  it  into  a 
Sacrament,  and  made  it  the  means,  by  a  marvellous 
mystery  of  Grace,  of  communicating  Himself  to  man's 
soul.  What  did  He  mean  by  so  doing  1  Many  things 
of  grave  import,  some  things,  possibly,  beyond  our 
reach ;  but  this  most  assuredly, — that  the  genius  of 
His  Religion,  as  expressed  in  its  highest  Ordinance, 
is  to  sanctify  all  the  actions  of  human  life,  even  down 
to  the  humblest  and  most  necessary.  To  do  this  is, 
if  I  may  so  say,  to  breathe  the  atmosphere  of  the 
Holy  Communion,  and  to  have  such  a  congeniality 
with  it,  as  shall  never  make  it  match  ill  or  show 
unsuitably  upon  the  general  groundwork  of  our  lives. 
Reader,  are  you  and  I  striving  thus  to  sanctify, — not 
only  holy  seasons  and  holy  exercises, — but  all  the 
common  actions  of  daily  life?  Then  shall  we  feel 
attracted  towards  a  frequent  reception  of  the  Holy 
Communion,  as  one  great  means  of  furthering  our 
object. 

But  in  the  feeling  of  reluctance  to  frequent  Com- 
munion, there  is  one  decidedly  good  element,  which  we 
must  not  pass  over  without  notice.  Persons  think  it 
beneficial  to  have  certain  solemn  and  stated  periods,  at 
which  they  may  look  into  the  affairs  of  their  souls 
more  narrowly,  wind  up  their  spiritual  accounts  more 
at  leisure,  and  make  a  fresh  start,  as  it  were,  upon  their 
Christian  course.  These  periods  have  been  with  them 
hitherto  their  Communions ;  each  of  which  has  thus 
become  a  sort  of  era  in  their  inner  life.  But,  if  they 
are  now  to  communicate  every  week  or  every  fortnight, 
this  solemn  scrutiny  and  preparation,  if  it  be  not  an 
actual  impossibility,  will  become  an  unreality.  Special 
devotional  exercises  are  good  at  special  seasons,  but 
the  naind  cannot  profitably  be  under  such  a  strain  every 


11  J         On  FrtquetUing  the  Holy  Communion 

week  or  every  fortnight.  Sundays  are  great  helps  to  a 
holy  life  ;  but  only  one  day  in  every  seven  is  appointed 
to  bo  a  Sunday. 

In  all  this  there  is  great  force  and  reason.  And  ho 
who  is  minded  to  live  the  Devout  Life  must  on  no 
account  abandon  the  excellent  practice  of  periodically 
examining  his  conscience  on  every  department  of  duty, 
and  seeking  from  God  in  prayer,  and  retirement  from 
the  world,  that  fresh  spring  of  holy  energy  which  is  to 
bo  found  for  all  of  us  in  the  Blood  and  Grace  of  Jesus 
Christ.  But  why  must  this  necessarily  be  done  before 
every  Communion  ?  Why  might  it  not  be  done  only 
before  the  three  great  Communions  of  Christm;is, 
Easter,  and  Whit-Sunday  ?  Or  if  even  this  be  found 
impracticable,  as  with  persons  heavily  engaged  will  very 
likely  be  the  case,  why  should  not  these  special  devo- 
tions be  limited  to  one  Communion  in  the  year,  that  of 
Christmas  or  that  of  Easter  ?  Assuredly,  a  thorough 
and  sifting  Self-examination,  once  satisfactorily  per- 
formed, is  better  than  three  or  four  cursory  inspections 
of  the  conscience;  Self-examination  being  a  matter  in 
which  to  be  cursory  and  superficial  is  usually  to  deceive 
oneself.  Then  for  ordinary  Communions,  assuming,  of 
course, — and  I  am  assuming  all  through, — that  the 
conscience  is  kept  clear  of  wilful  sin — our  usual  evening 
retrospect  of  the  day,  with  some  very  trifling  addition 
to  our  evening  prayer  on  Friday  and  Saturday,  the 
eighty  fourth  Psalm,  for  example,  and  the  prayer  of 
access  in  the  Communion  Oflice,  "  We  do  not  presume 
to  come  to  this  Thy  Table,"  &c.,  would  abundantly 
suffice. 

Have  we  now  reached  and  met  in  any  mind  the 
objections  which  are  felt  to  a  frequent  Communion  1 
Or  does  there  remain  still  a  lurl<ing  mistrust  of  such 


156         On  Frequenting  the  Holy  Communion,    [paei 

a  practice,  under  the  suspicion,  perhaps,  that  it  is 
popish  ?  Such  a  suspicion  is,  in  the  first  place,  not 
borne  out  by  the  facts.  Romanists,  as  a  general  rule, 
although  they  constantly  assist  at  the  Mass,  (that  is, 
are  present  at  the  celebration,  and  follow  what  is  being 
done  mentally,)  communicate  much  scldomer  than 
English  Churchmen.  Their  unscriptural  tenet  of  Tran- 
SLibstantiation,  giving  as  it  does  a  false  awfulness  and  a 
superstitious  mysteriousness  to  the  Ordinance,  frightens 
them  away,  and  holds  them  back  from  frequent  Com- 
munion. So  much  for  the  real  state  of  the  case -among 
them.  And  as  regards  the  theory  of  frequent  Com- 
munion, by  way  of  showing  that  it  is  by  no  means 
exclusively  Eomanist,  let  me  close  this  Chapter  with 
an  extract  from  those  touching  and  edifying  addresses 
which  have  been  lately  published  under  the  title  of  the 
Adieux  of  Adolphe  Mouod.  The  speaker  was  a  French 
Protestant  Pastor,  eminent  for  piety  and  for  his  extra- 
ordinary abilities  as  a  preacher.  The  pulpit  from  which 
he  spoke, — and  it  is  sometimes  the  most  effective  of  all 
pulpits, — was  a  death-bed,  around  which,  Sunday  by 
Sunday,  (for  he  lingered  long,)  he  gathered  as  many 
members  of  his  little  flock  as  the  sick-room  would  hold, 
and  received  with  them  the  Holy  Communion,  and 
spoke  to  them  of  such  subjects  as  the  "  Regrets  of  a 
Dying  Man."  One  of  these  addresses  is  headed  "  Fre- 
quent Communion."  While  guarding  myself  against 
being  understood  to  recommend,  as  he  does,  a  daily 
Communion,  I  willingly  quote  him  as  an  advocate  of 
frequent  celebrations.  Thus  he  speaks  to  the  little 
flock  at  his  bed-side,  the  words  being  taken  down  from 
his  lips  by  his  children  : — "  My  dear  friends,  I  wish 
you  to  know  that  in  the  frequent  reception  of  the 
Communion  during  my  illness  I  find  much  comfort, 


II.]         On  FrequenUtiff  iJi(  unmunion.         \rt'j 

and  I  hope  also  much  fruit.  It  is  a  great  ovil  that  tlio 
Communion  should  bo  celebrated  so  rarely  in  out 
Church,  an  evil  which  people  on  all  sides  ore  now 
applying  themselves  to  remedy.  Our  Reformers,  in 
establishing  this  order  of  things,  have  taken  care  to 
explain  that  they  did  it  only  for  a  time,  and  to  prevent 
certain  very  grave  abuses,  which  had  crept  into  the 
primitive  Church.  But  what  they  did  as  a  temporary 
precaution  has  remained  for  ages  in  the  greater  number 
of  our  churches.  At  length  wo  reach  the  time  when 
we  may  expect  to  have  frequent  Communion  restored 
to  us.  Calvin  says  somewhere,  that  the  Communion 
ought  to  be  celebrated  at  least  every  Sunday.  Remark 
this  at  leasL  If  it  should  be  every  Sunday  at  leasty 
what  should  it  be  at  most?  At  most  must  be,  to  take 
it  as  the  early  Christians  did,  according  to  Calvin  (and 
that  comes  out,  too,  clearly  enough  from  the  Acts  of 
the  Apostles),  every  day,  from  house  to  house,  at  the 
close  of  the  family  repast.  Each  of  you  may  have 
remarked  that  rare  Communion  gives  I  know  not  what 
strange  and  extraordinary  idea  of  the  Communion, — of 
the  preparation  which  ought  to  precede,  and  of  the 
emotions  which  follow  it.  On  the  contrary,  frequent 
Communion  makes  us  understand  much  better  the  true 
character  of  this  Sacrament ;  and  it  is  impossible  that 
daily  Communion  should  fail  to  put  us  in  perfect 
possession  of  that  true  character ;  for  it  teaches  us  to 
connect  the  Communion  with  all  that  there  is  most 
simple  in  Christian  life,  just  as  a  repast  is  one  of  the 
simplest  things  in  ordinary  life.  But  whether  there 
should  be  a  daily  celebration  or  not,  certainly  in  seeing 
in  the  Communion  the  simplest  expression  of  our  faith, 
we  shall  profit  by  it  most,  we  shall  gather  from  it  tho 
greatest  fruity  and  it  is  thus  that  it  will  nourish  our 


158  Of  the  Public  Service  of  the  Church.       [paki 

souls  most  effectually  with  the   Flesh  and  with  the 
Blood  of  Jesus  Christ." 


CHAPTER    X. 

OF    THE  PUBLIC  SEEVICE  OF  TKE  CHUECn. 

"  If  two  of  you  shall  agree  on  earth  as  touching  any  thing  thai 
they  shall  ask,  it  shall  be  done  for  them  of  my  Father  which  is 
in  heaven.'''' — Matt,  xviii.  19. 

It  would  be  well  if,  in  considering  the  various  Ordi- 
nances of  Religion,  we  began  by  narrowly  examining 
their  charter,  as  it  exists  in  God's  Holy  Word.  How 
shall  we  ascertain  their  true  character  1  how  shall  we 
Imow  what  we  may  expect  from  them,  and  what  we 
may  not  expect  %  how,  in  short,  shall  we  secure  our- 
selves against  a  false  estimate  of  them,  otherwise  than 
by  looking  into  their  original  constitution  ?  The  exact 
limits  of  a  patent  or  prerogative,  granted  by  the  gov- 
ernment of  a  country  to  any  individual,  can  only  be 
ascertained  by  consulting  the  terms  of  the  patent. 
Let  the  holder  abstract  from  the  public  records,  and 
hide  away  the  parchment  on  which  those  terms  are 
written,  and  there  are  then  no  powers  which  he  may 
not  assume,  on  the  general  vague  representation  that 
the  patent  is  his. 

The  passage  which  stands  at  the  head  of  this  Lecture 
contains  the  charter  of  Public  Worship.  The  Church 
has  given  to  Public  Worship  divers  forms  of  its  own 
devising ;  but  here  we  have,  if  I  may  so  say,  the  raw 
material,  out  of  which  all  forms  are  manufactured. 
Now  from  the  examination  of  this  charter,  we  will 
seek,  first,  to  ascertain  the  true  theory  of  Public  Wor- 


II.]  Of  the  Public  Service  of  (he  Church.  15U 

ship ;  and  then  draw  from  that  theory  some  practical 
hints  for  thq  conduct  of  this  devotional  exercise. 

It  is  not  with  any  controvcrsiid  object,  for  con 
trovcrsy  is  seldom  edifying,  but  by  way  of  clearly 
defining  the  idea,  that  we  say,  at  the  outset,  that  in 
the  practice  both  of  the  Church  of  Rome,  and  of  the 
l*rotestant  sects  in  this  country,  wo  trace  a  degeneracy 
from  the  Scriptural  theory  of  Public  Worship.  Ex- 
tremes continually  meet ;  and  it  is  not  a  little  remark- 
able that  both  by  Romanists  and  Dissenters  the 
functions  of  Public  Worship  are  all  devolved  upon  the 
clergy, — whether  priest  or  ofllciating  minister,— and 
the  people  take,  I  do  not  say  no  part,  but  no  common 
part  with  him.  The  Mass  is  the  chief  office  of  the 
Roman  Church  ;  at  which  even  those  who  do  not  com- 
municate assist,  as  it  is  called,  every  Sunday.  In  what 
(lues  this  assistance  consist?  The  question  may  be 
answered  by  examining  the  books  of  devotion  recom- 
mended and  used  at  the  Mass.  It  will  be  found,  on 
looking  into  such  books,  that  the  idea  of  the  con- 
gregation's praying  as  one  body, — using  the  minister 
:is  their  mouthpiece,  and  signifying  their  assent  to  him 
by  occasional  responds, — is,  if  not  eliminated,  very 
much  obscured.  The  priest  is  doing  one  act,  supposed 
to  be  sacrificial,  to  the  effectiveness  of  which  the  con- 
aregation  can  contribute  nothing;  and,  while  he  is 
doing  it,  the  people  are  furnished  with  separate  de- 
votions appropriate  to  the  several  stages  of  it,  which 
each  person  recites  secretly.  The  priest  and  they  are 
not  asking  the  same  thing  at  the  same  time ;  and  the 
only  agreement  which  there  is  in  their  petitions  stands 
in  place  and  time, — in  the  fact  that  they  arc  offered  in 
the  same  church  at  the  same  hour.  Nay  it  might 
happen   tliat  several  of  tlui  worshippers   should    use 


160  Of  the  Public  Service  of  the  Church,      [pari 

different  books  of  devotions  on  the  Mass,  even  as  with 
us  different  members  of  the  congregation-  bring  with 
them  different  books  of  devotion  on  the  Holy  Com- 
munion ;  and  that  thus  two  persons,  kneeling  side  by- 
side,  might  be  so  far  from  agreeing  in  what  they  ask, 
as  to  be  offering  two  different  petitions  at  the  same 
moment.  If  the  principle  were  carried  out  to  an  e^;- 
treme,  no  two  members  of  the  congregation  would  be 
praying  for  exactly  the  same  thing ;  and  Public  Prayer 
would  resolve  itself  into  a  series  of  private  prayers 
said  secretly  in  public.  But  the  truth  is,  that  Private 
Prayer  and  Public  Prayer  are  wholly  different  things, 
separated  from  one  another  by  a  much  deeper  dis- 
tinction than  the  mere  accident  that  the  one  is  offered 
in  the  chamber,  the  other  in  the  face  of  the  Chvircn. 
Their  scriptural  charters  proclaim  that  they  are  Ordi- 
nances differently  constituted.  The  charter  of  Private 
Prayer  runs  thus  :  "  Thou,  when  thou  pray  est,  enter 
into  thy  closet,  and  when  thou  hast  shut  thy  door," — 
exclusion  of  the  world  from  the  thoughts,  if  not  from 
the  place,  is  an  essential, — "  pray  to  thy  Father  which 
is  in  secret ;  and  thy  Father,  which  seeth  in  secret, 
shall  reward  thee  openly."  The  charter  of  Public 
Prayer,  on  the  other  hand,  runs  thus :  "  If  two  of  you 
shall  agree  on  earth  as  touching  any  thing  that  they 
shall  ask,  it  shall  be  done  for  them  of  my  Father  which 
is  in  heaven."  Agreement  in  the  petition  (not  neces- 
sarily, as  I  understand  it,  agreement  in  the  place  or 
time  of  offering  the  petition,  though  that  is  both  natu- 
ral and  proper)  is  an  essential  of  this  sort  of  prayer, 
so  that  if  you  remove  this  agreement,  the  prayer  ceases 
to  be  Public  Prayer  at  all.  It  is  not  the  resorting  to 
the  same  House  of  Prayer,  it  is  not  the  being  side  by 
side  with  one's  neighbour  in  bodily  presence,  but  it  is 


n."!  Of  the  Public  Service  of  the  Church,  161 

tbo  mental  and  cordial  agreement  with  him  as  to  what 
we  shall  ask,  which  constitutes  the  prayer  puhlic.  De- 
velope  this  idea  a  little  further,  and  you  will  arrive  at 
the  conclusion,  which  is  as  rational  as  it  is  scriptural, 
that  Private  Prayer  touches  and  deals  with  the  relations 
of  the  individual  to  God,  those  relations  to  which  no 
other  heart  than  his  own  is  pri\y,  his  secret  sins,  trials, 
struggles,  success;  whereas  Public  Prayer  embraces 
his  relations  as  a  member  of  the  Clmrch,  not  only  to 
the  Head  of  the  Church,  but  also  to  the  other  members. 
In  the  one,  there  can  usually  be  no  agreement,  by  rea- 
son of  the  diversity  of  characters  and  wants.  In  the 
other  wo  approach  God  as  a  Society,  incorporated  by 
the  royal  charter  of  His  Son,  having  an  understanding 
with  other  members  as  to  our  wants  and  petitions,  and 
framing  them  in  language  so  general  as  to  meet  the  ne- 
cessities of  all.  To  use  an  illustration.  Private  Prayer 
is  the  exhibition  of  a  biography  to  God ;  Public  Pray- 
er, the  exhibition  of  a  history.  A  biography  is  a  dis- 
tinct thing  from  a  history.  The  one  presents  the  indi- 
vidual in  the  private  sentiments  which  actuate  him  ;  the 
other  in  his  public  enterprises,  as  a  member  of  the  body 
politic.  And  on  account  of  this  difTerence  of  character, 
no  collection  of  biographies  of  any  period  would  form 
a  history  of  the  period,  any  more  than  the  aggregate 
of  private  devotions  said  in  public  constitutes  public 
devotion.  At  the  same  time  it  must  be  admitted  that, 
just  as  biographies  mention  occasionally  the  public  ex- 
ploits of  their  subjects,  and  histories  sometimes  delineate 
the  private  characters  of  public  men,  so  Public  Prayer 
and  Private  Prayer  will  occasionally  trench  upon  the 
strict  provinces  of  one  another, — as  when  in  his  closet 
a  man  intercedes  for  the  whole  Church,  or  as  when  in 
tlic  congregation  some  passage  of  the  Liturgy  comes 


162  Of  the  Public  Service  of  the  Church.      [part 

home  to  our  own  present  w«ants  with  a  peculiar  force 
and  appropriateness.  SufBce  it  that,  generally  speak 
ing,  the  provinces  of  the  two  are  distinct.  We  may 
not  press  anij  distinction  too  hard. 

Turning  now  to  the  Protestant  sects ;  does  their 
practice  realize  better  the  true  ideal  of  Public  Worship 
than  that  of  Romanists  ?  We  hold  it  to  be  at  least  a 
nearer  approach  to  the  true  idea ;  for  the  theory  of  all 
Protestant  Worship  certainly  is,  that  there  shall  be 
agreement  as  to  the  things  asked  for,  that  niinister  and 
people  shall  join  in  the  same  petitions.  But  how  can 
such  agreement  be  effectually  secured  in  the  absence  of 
a  Liturgy,  or  form  previously  prepared,  unless  the  pas- 
tor and  congregation  should  meet  before  Divine  Ser- 
vice, and  come  to  some  understanding  as  to  the  substance 
of  their  petitions ;  a  course  which,  if  not  impractica- 
ble, has  probably  never  been  attempted  %  In  extem- 
pore prayer  it  is  out  of  the  question  that  the  people 
can  know  what  the  minister  is  about  to  pray  for  :  when 
he  has  uttered  his  petition,  they  may,  of  course,  give 
their  mental  and  cordial  assent  to  it,  and  doubtless 
devout  Dissenters,  of  which  there  are  numbers,  endeav- 
our to  do  so ;  but  before  this  mental  process,  which 
consists  of  first  taking  in  the  petition  with  the  mind, 
and  then  assimilating  it  with  the  will,  is  well  finished, 
the  minister  has  passed  on  to  another  petition,  fiister 
than  the  worshipper  can  follow,  and  the  latter  soon 
finds  that  there  is  no  way  of  really  joining,  but  by  lis- 
tening, as  he  would  to  a  Sermon,  and  giving  a  genei-al 
assert  to  the  contents  of  the  prayer  by  means  of  the 
Amen  at  the  end.  On  the  other  hand,  a  Liturgy,  if 
seriously  and  intelligently  used,  necessarily  secures  ex- 
act agreement  among  the  worshippers  as  to  the  things 
sued  for  ;  nay,  determines  even  the  form  in  which  each 


a.]  Of  the  Public  Service  of  the  Church.  163 

supplication  shall  present  itself  to  tho  minds  of  all. 
There  arc,  wo  believe,  many  other  advantages  accruing 
to  a  Liturgy  like  ours,  which  are  beside  the  purpose  of 
the  present  argument. .  Wo  prize  our  Prayer  Book  for 
its  intrinsic  beauty,  for  its  chasto  fervour,  for  its  primi- 
tive simplicity,  for  its  close  harmony  with  Scripture,  for 
tlie  way  in  which  it  fences  us  against  false  doctrine ;  but 
the  fundamental  advantage  of  a  Liturgy,  merely  as  a 
Liturgy,  is  this,  that  it  secures,  far  more  than  any  ex- 
tempore prayer  can  do,  that  agreement  in  the  things 
asked  for,  which  is  part  of  the  charter  of  Public  Prayer, 
and  so  grounds  tho  act  of  worship  on  Christ's  own 
Word  of  Promise :  "  If  two  of  you  shall  agree  on 
earth  as  touching  any  thing  that  they  shall  ask,  it  shall 
bo  done  for  them  of  my  Father  which  is  in  heaven." 

We  have  canvassed  freely  the  defective  theories  of 
Public  Worship,  maintained  by  those  w^ho  are  opposed 
to  us  on  either  side  ;  but  it  is  in  no  spirit  of  boastful- 
ness  that  we  have  done  so,  nor  with  any  desire  to  con- 
ceal our  own  faults,  which  arc  both  patent  and  abun- 
dant. The  truer  and  more  Scriptural  our  Church's  theory 
of  Public  Worship  is,  the  more  cause  have  we  for  hu- 
miliation, that  in  practice  we  so  grievously  fall  short  of 
it.  It  is  true  that  we  have  every  security,  which  mere 
rule  and  system  can  give  us,  for  agreement  in  the  sub- 
stance of  our  petitions ;  but  agreement  is  after  all  a 
matter  of  the  mind  and  hearty  and  cannot  be  prescrib- 
ed by  rule  or  system.  Without  such  cordial  agree- 
ment, the  most  beautiful  Liturgy  in  the  world  soon  do. 
generates  into  a  dreary  and  formal  recitation,  lacking 
both  the  reality  of  the  Roman's  secret  devotion,  and 
the  vivacity  and  freshness  of  the  Dissenter's  extempore 
prayer.     We  might,  if  we  duly  prized  and  properly 


164  Of  the  Public  Service  of  the  Church.      [paei 

used  our  advantages,  make  our  churches  the  very  gate 
of  Heaven  to  every  devout  soul ;  as  it  is,  the  felt  for- 
malism of  the  Service  in  many  of  them,  (for  forma- 
lism is  a  thing  felt  by  instinct,)  rather  chills  and  throws 
back  the  energies  of  spiritual  life.  Where  is  the  rem- 
edy to  be  sought  1  In  the  efforts  of  individuals  to  bring 
about  a  better  state  of  things.  In  vain  do  we  declaim 
against  the  Church  of  our  day  in  the  abstract.  The 
Clmrch  is  composed  of  individual  members,  upon  each 
of  whom  rests  his  own  portion  of  the  blame  and  re- 
sponsibility ;  it  is  I,  and  you,  Reader,  who  are- in  fliult. 
If  w^e  are  minded  for  the  future  to  do  justice  to  the 
system  of  our  Church,  and  bring  out  the  beauty  of  its 
theory,  let  us  resolve  first,  each  one  for  himself,  to  do 
wliat  in  us  lies  to  contribute  to  such  a  result.  And  let 
us  consider  whether  the  following  hints,  all  founded  on 
the  charter  of  Public  Prayer  already  quoted,  may  not 
be  of  service  to  us. 

1.  Let  us  seek  to  understand  the  Liturgy  of  the 
Church.  If  agreement  in  our  petitions  is  to  be  secured 
by  the  use  of  it,  it  is  evident  that  the  worshippers 
must,  each  one  for  himself,  bring  some  considerable 
portion  of  their  minds  to  it,  before  they  come  to  Church. 
The  Morning  and  Evening  Prayer,  indeed,  are  more  or 
less  familiarized  to  our  ears  by  constant  repetition ;  but 
then  familiarity  with  the  sound  is  a  totally  different 
thing  (as  a  child's  knowledge  of  the  Catechism  proves) 
from  intelligent  appreciation  of  the  sense — nay,  is  prob- 
ably more  or  less  of  a  hindrance  to  that  intelligent  ap- 
preciation. Words  got  by  heart  are  foolishly  sup- 
posed to  be  thoroughly  mastered,  whereas  all  that 
we  have  secured  of  them  is  the  rhythm  and  the 
run  of  the  style,  and  the  meaning,  proteus-like,  has 
given  us  the  slip.     How  many  Churchmen  have  ever 


ii.j  Of  the  Public  Service  of  the  Church,  165 

laodo  tho  various  petitions  of  tho  Morning  and  Even- 
ing Prayer  a  subject  of  thought, — who  yet  know 
tho  Service  quite  well  enough  superficially,  to  catch 
lip  and  fling  abroad  certain  captious  popular  objec- 
tions to  parts  of  it]  And  in  the  Occasional  Services, 
tho  Christening,  tlie  Wedding,  or  the  Burial,  though 
tho  first  of  these  have  all  tho  dignity  and  all  the 
ellicacy  of  a  sacrament,  and  tho  two  last  arc  of  a  na- 
ture to  enlist  peculiarly  our  personal  feelings ;  where 
is  tho  man  who  seriously  asks  himself,  before  he  goes 
to  Church,  what  are  the  blessings  for  which  he  is  about 
to  sue  ?  Yet  surely  wo  must  at  least  ask  ourselves  this 
question,  if  we  would  avail  ourselves  of  the  opportunity 
of  agreement  which  our  Liturgy  affords,  and  so  avail 
ourselves  of  our  Lord's  Promise  to  united  Prayer.  We 
must  think  about  our  Prayer  Books,  as  well  as  about 
our  Bibles,  if  we  are  to  profit  by  them.  The  real 
action  of  a  man's  ONvn  mind  upon  the  Liturgy  would  be 
worth  a  great  deal  of  book  learning.  However,  if 
explanation  and  comment  be  required,  by  those  who 
wish  to  study  the  subject  chiefly  in  its  devotional 
aspect.  Dean  Comber  supplies  plentiful  and  wholesome 
matter  ;  and  for  those  who  desire  something  less  prolix 
and  less  expensive  than  the  works  of  Comber,  Shepherd 
on  the  Common  Prayer  may  bo  found  suitable.*  It 
would  be  one  great  point  (and  I  mention  it,  because  in 
all  studies  a  definite  and  circumscribed  aim  is  of  great 
importance)  to  make  the  Psalms  thoroughly  available 
in  Public  Devotion, — to  say  them,  or  sing  them,  with 
more  of  understanding,  as  well  as  more  of  spirit,  than 
heretofore.     With  persons  who  are  only  moderately 

*  Also  Hallain  on  the  Morning  Prayer,  and  Coxc's  Tbougbfaa  on 
the  Serrioes. 


166  Of  the  Public  Service  of  the  Church,      [part 

acquainted  with  Divinity,  some  commentary  will  pro- 
bably be  found  necessary  for  this  purpose,  and  Bishop 
Home's  is  perhaps  the  best  that  can  be  recommended. 
I  may  add  that  it  is  a  great  clue  to  the  right  devo- 
tional use  of  those  Psalms,  which  manifestly  refer  to 
Christ,  to  remember,  while  saying  or  singing  them, 
that  we  are  one  with  Him ;  and  that  we  repeat  them 
in  Church  as  being  identified  with  Him  in  God's  sight 
— "  members  of  His  Body,  of  His  Flesh,  and  of  His 
Bones  ;"  not  as  if  we  were  reading  mereMnstructive 
lessons. 

2.  Do  not  allow  Public  Worship  to  degenerate  into 
a  mere  saying  of  your  private  prayers  in  Church.  Set 
yourselves  against  this  selfish  and  narrowing  tendency  • 
for  it  rather  defeats  the  end  of  the  Ordinance.  Think 
of  the  many  others  who  are  around  you  at  Public 
Worship,  of  their  sins,  trials,  wants,  wishes,  mercies, — 
trying  to  throw  yourself  into  their  case.  Be  you  pray- 
ing and  giving  thanks  for  them,  while  they  are  pray- 
ing and  giving  thanks  for  you ;  this  will  constitute  a 
sweet  agreement,  a  beautiful  symphony,  in  the  ears  of 
the  Most  High.  Too  many  Christians,  good  and  pious 
in  the  main,  go  to  Church  with  this  idea  working  in 
their  minds  :  "  I  go  to  ask  for  what  I  myself  want,  and 
to  give  thanks  for  what  I  myself  have  received,  and  I 
do  not  busy  myself  with  other  people."  Then  you 
might  nearly  as  well  stay  at  home.  The  closet  is  the 
place  for  pouring  out  the  heart  before  God,  and  laying 
down  the  secret  burdens  at  the  Throne  of  Grace.  The 
Church  is  the  place  for  the  intercommunion  of  Saints 
with  one  another,  and  of  all  with  God.  Hence  the 
great  comprehensiveness  of  the  terms  in  which  our 
Confession  and  Thanksgiving  are  drawn  up.  They  are 
expressly  framed  to  cover  all  cases. 


n.]  Of  the  Public  Service  of  the  Church,  107 

8.  Let  not  the  outward  expression  of  agreement  bo 
wanting ;  or,  or  in  other  words,  be  careful  to  make  in  an 
audiblo  voice  all  the  responses  prescribed  by  the  Church. 
This  may  seem  a  sliglit  matter  in  itself;  but  it  really 
rests  upon  profounder  principles  than  wo  arc  apt  to  im 
agine.  In  the  first  place,  the  audible  respond  is  a  val 
uable  protest  in  favour  of  the  undoubted  scriptural  truth, 
that  all  Christians  are,  in  virtue  of  their  Baptism,  priests, 
and  that  all  therefore  are  bound  to  join  and  bear  their 
part  in  the  spiritual  sacrifices  which  arc  offered  to  God 
in  His  Church.  The  practice  of  Romanists  and  Dissen- 
ters, by  which  the  clergy  or  officials  recite  the  whole  Of- 
fice, obscures  this  precious  and  important  truth ;  our 
practice  as  Churchmen  ought  to  bear  testimony  to  it. 
But  besides  this,  there  is  in  us,  our  nature  being  com- 
posite, a  strange  mysterious  sympathy  between  the 
outward  and  the  inward,  which  makes  us  dependent 
for  the  life  and  energy  of  our  spirits  upon  the  little 
outward  symptoms  and  accidents  of  our  position.  Our 
bodies  expand  or  contract  according  to  the  temperature 
of  the  atmosphere  which  surrounds  them ;  and  our 
minds  in  a  spiritual  atmosphere,  which  makes  itself 
felt  in  just  the  same  subtle  and  delicate  way  as  the 
natural  atmosphere,  observe  the  same  law.  If  persons 
around  us  in  the  congregation  are  merely  silent  auditors 
of  the  Service,  not  active  participitators  in  it :  much 
more,  if  they  are  careless,  slovenly,  and  indevout,  our 
own  devotion  is  instantaneously  chilled,  and,  as  it  were, 
thrown  inward.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  they  have  all 
the  appearance  of  earnest  worshippers,  devotion  soon 
stirs  and  wakens  up  in  our  own  heart,  much  as  a  frozen 
snake  will  move,  and  uncoil  itself  and  rear  its  crest, 
when  brought  near  the  fire.  Throw,  then,  your  con- 
tribution of  heart,  and  soul,  and  sympathy  into  the 


168  Of  the  Public  Service  of  the  Church.      [pakt 

Service  of  the  Church,  by  making  the  responses  simply, 
and  sincerely,  in  your  natural  voice.  Berridge  seems 
to  have  understood  well  the  great  charm  of  congre- 
gational worship,  when  he  thus  writes  respecting  the 
mutual  salutation  of  the  priest  and  people,  as  given  in 
his  own  little  Church  at  Everton : 

"  When  I  say,  '  The  Lord  be  with  you/  I  love  to 
hear  their  murmur  of  response  breaking  forth  from 
all  corners  of  the  Church,  '  And  with  thy  spirit.'  It 
reminds  me  of  those  words  of  the  Revelation  descrip- 
tive of  the  worship  of  the  redeemed  at  the  marriage 
supper  of  the  Lamb :  *  I  heard  as  it  were  the  voice  of  a 
great  multitude,  and  as  the  voice  of  many  waters,  and 
as  the  voice  of  many  thunderings,  saying,  Alleluia  !  for 
the  Lord  God  omnipotent  reigneth.'  The  Dissenters 
have  nothing  to  compare  with  it." 

It  should  be  our  ambition  to  bring  the  worship  of 
the  Church  Militant  into  as  close  a  resemblance  with 
that  of  the  Church  Triumphant  as  our  circumstances 
will  admit.  To  this  great  result  each  one  may  con- 
tribute something  by  bringing  to  Church  a  thoughtful 
and  prepared  mind,  a  devout  heart,  and  a  humble  voice. 
Let  but  a  few  worshippers  do  this,  and  oftener  than  we 
think  we  shall  seem  to  intercept  an  echo  of  that  sinless 
and  perfect  Worship  which  is  ever  carried  on  above. 

We  have  spoken  of  the  agreement  of  the  members 
of  Christ's  Body,  and  that  which  gives  its  character  to 
Public  Worship.  But  what  are  the  members  without 
the  Head?  Only  so  many  bricks  of  an  arch  without 
a  key-stone.  There  can  be  no  agreement  without  the 
Head :  for  it  is  the  Head  which  holds  the  members 
together,  not  in  unity  only,  but  in  existence.  Not 
therefore  without  a  very  profound  connection  of  thought 
does  Our  Lord  thus  complete  the  passage,  upon  which 


II.]  Of  the  Public  Service  of  the  Churchy  160 

wo  have  been  founding  oui  remarks  :  **  If  two  of  you 
sliall  agree  on  earth  as  touching  any  thing  that  they 
shall  ask,  it  shall  bo  done  for  them  of  My  Father  which 
is  in  Heaven.  For  where  two  or  three  are  gathered 
toirt'iher  in.  My  Name,  there  am  I  in  tlie  midst  of 

There  is  great  significance  in  the  "  For."  He  would 
have  us  to  understand  that  it  is  His  Presence  in  the 
midst  of  the  two  or  three  gathered  together  in  His 
Name,  which  lends  all  the  efficacy  to  their  petitions. 
The  High  Priest,  He  would  say,  is  in  the  midst  of  the 
worshippers,  whose  functions  of  Atonement  and  Inter- 
cession are  the  alonie  procuring  cause  of  the  acceptance 
of  their  prayers.  Then  our  last  practical  recommenda- 
tion shall  be  that,  as  in  Private  Prayer  our  thoughts 
are  turned  to  that  God  who  sceth  in  secret,  so  in  Public 
Worship  we  should  seek  to  realize  a  rather  more  de- 
finite conception  of  the  Presence  of  the  Incarnate  God. 
The  human  presence  visibly  around  us  in  the  Church 
is  the  pledge,  the  token,  the  Sacrament  of  His.  He  is 
among  them  in  all  the  sympathies  of  His  Humanity, 
in  all  the  glories  of  His  Divinity,  in  all  the  precious 
virtues  of  His  Mediatorial  Work.  And  it  will  be  found 
useful,  before  the  commencement  of  the  Service,  and  at 
any  of  the  necessary  breaks  which  occur  in  the  course 
of  it,  to  occupy  the  mind  with  the  thought  of  His 
Presence.  The  apprehension  of  it,  and  nothing  short 
of  the  apprehension  of  it,  will  impart  to  public  Worship 
a  mingled  sweetness  and  solemnity,  which  will  con- 
strain us  to  exclaim  with  the  Psalmist :  "  How  amiable 
are  Thy  tabernacles,  O  Lord  of  Hosts !  My  soul 
longeth,  yea,  even  fainteth  for  the  courts  of  the  Lord. 
Blessed  are  they  that  dwell  in  Thy  house :  they  will  be 
still  praising  Thee." 
8 


170  On  Self-Becollectedness  fpABi 


CHAPTER  XI. 

ON  SELF-EECOLLECTEDNESS  AND  EJACULATOET 
PEAYEE. 

^'- Pray  without  ceasing.'^'' — 1  Tiiess.  y.  13. 

The  Apostle  bids  us  "  pray  without  ceasing."  Yet  of 
our  Blessed  Lord,  the  great  model,  as  of  every  other 
virtue,  so  also  of  Prayer,  it  is  expressly  said-  by  the 
Evangelist  St.  Luke  that,  "  as  He  was  praying  in  a 
certain  place.  He  ceased.''^  The  precept  and  the  example 
are  capable  of  an  easy  reconciliation.  When  it  is  said 
that  Christ  ceased  from  prayer,  it  is  meant  that  He 
ceased  from  stated  prayer,  from  prayer  offered  probably 
upon  his  knees.  When  St.  Paul  exhorts  us  to  "  pray 
without  ceasing"  he  means  that  we  should  maintain 
unbroken  the  soul's  communion  with  God. 

Prayer  is  to  be  regarded  not  only  as  a  distinct 
exercise  of  Religion,  for  which  its  own  time  must  be 
set  apart,  but  as  a  process  woven  into  the  texture 
of  the  Christian's  mind,  and  extending  through  the 
length  and  breadth  of  his  life.  Like  the  golden  thread 
in  a  tissue,  it  frequently  disappears  beneath  the  com- 
mon threads.  It  disappears,  and  is  hidden  from  the 
eye ;  yet  nevertheless,  it  is  substantially  there,  like  a 
stream  running  underground  for  a  certain  period  of  its 
course.  Suddenly,  the  thread  emerges  into  sight  again 
on  the  upper  surface  of  the  tissue,  and  suddenly  again 
disappears ;  and  thus  it  penetrates  the  whole  texture, 
although  occasionally  hidden.  This  is  a  very  just  illus- 
tration of  the  matter  in  hand.  Look  from  without 
upon  the  Christian's  life,  and  you  will  see  divers  occu- 


II.]  and  Ejaculat       /  r.  171 

pattons  and  employments,  many  of  which,  it  may  be, 
call  for  tlie  exercise  of  his  mind.  But  beneath  tho 
mind's  surface  there  is  an  undercurrent,  a  golden  thread 
of  Prayer,  always  there,  though  often  latent  and  fre- 
quently rising  up  to  view  not  only  in  stated  acts  of 
worship,  but  in  holy  ejaculations.  We  are  now  passing 
from  tho  consideration  of  the  devotional  life  of  tho 
Christian  to  that  of  his  practical  life,  and  wo  make 
Ejaculatory  Prayer  the  bridge  to  the  latter  part  of  our 
great  subject,  because  it  is  the  exercise  by  which  busi- 
ness and  devotion  are  interlaced  one  with  another. 

Prayer  has  been  truly  called  the  Christian's  breath 
o;  life.  The  image  applies  to  prayer  in  that  broad  sense 
of  the  word  in  which  the  Apostle  bids  us  pray  without 
ceasing,  and  we  cannot  gain  a  better  insight  into  the 
meaning  of  the  precept,  than  by  developing  it  a  little. 

Let  us  consider,  thcQ,  the  process  of  natural  life.  It 
is  carried  on  by  an  unintermittcd  series  of  inhalations 
and  exhalations.  The  air  is  drawn  inwards  first,  and 
fills  IhiJ  lungs,  and  then  thrown  out  again  that  fresh 
may  be  tal^en  in. 

Similarly,  Mental  Prayer  consists  of  two  processes ; 
recollecting  or  gathering  up  the  mind,  and  breathing  it 
out  towards  God.  The  first  is  to  enter  into  the  closet 
of  the  heart,  and  shut  the  door  upon  all  but  God.  Tho 
second  is  to  pray  to  our  Father,  which  is  in  secret. 

1.  To  recollect  or  gather  up  the  mind,  is  to  summon 
it  from  its  wanderings  (as  a  shepherd  drives  home  to 
the  fold  a  stray  sheep),  and  to  place  it  consciously  in 
God's  Presence.  God,  though  present  every  where,  has 
His  special  residence,  as  being  a  pure  Spirit,  in  our 
minds.  "  In  Him  we  live,  and  move,  and  have  our 
being."  He  is  somewhere  in  the  recesses  of  the  soul,  in 
the  springs  of  our  existence,  in  that  mysterious,  dark. 


172  On  Self-Recollectedness  [pari 

cavernous  region  of  our  nature,  where  the  wishes, 
feelings,  thoughts,  emotions,  take  tlieir  earliest  rise.  1 
say,  it  is  a  dark  region  this  spirit  of  ours,  or  rather  this 
depth  of  our  spirit ;  even  as  the  Holy  of  Holies,  the 
heart  of  the  Temple,  was  perfectly  dark,  and  not»lightcd 
by  a  single  window.  Yet  was  there  the  majesty  of  the 
Divine  Presence  in  that  small  dark  chamber,  between 
the  outspread  wings  of  the  Cherubim.  And,  similarly, 
the  mind  is  a  sanctuary,  in  the  centre  of  which  the  Lord 
sits  enthroned,  the  lamp  of  the  consciousness  burning 
before  Him.  All  this  is  the  case  with  our  minds, 
whether  we  turn  our  thoughts  to  it  or  not.  That  we 
should  turn  our  thoughts  to  it, — that  the  mind  should 
ever  and  anon,  both  amid  business  and  recreation,  be 
called  home  for  a  second  or  two  to  the  Presence  of  God 
dwelling  in  its  dark  recesses ;  this  is  the  meaning  of 
recollectedness  of  spirit.  In  days  of  hard  and  drudging 
work,  in  days  of  boisterous  merriment,  in  days  of  ex- 
citement and  anticipation,  it  is  wonderfully  refreshing 
thus  to  recollect  the  mind,  and  place  it  consciously 
under  the  eye  of  the  Divine  Majesty.  It  is  like  a 
breath  of  sweet  air  coming  across  us  in  a  foul  and 
crov»-ded  alley ;  or  a  strain  of  sweet  music  stealing  up 
to  our  window,  amid  the  din  and  discord  of  a  populous 
city.  Pleasant  it  is  upon  the  mountains  to  hear  the 
horn  blow,  as  a  signal  to  the  lowing  and  bleating 
cattle  to  withdraw  from  pasture,  and  be  safely  folded 
for  the  night.  We  associate  repose  and  security  with 
that  strange  wild  blare  of  the  rudely  manufactured 
trumpet ;  and  the  association  is  most  fascinating.  And 
when  the  Good  Shepherd,  by  the  inward  whispers  of 
His  voice,  calls  us  to  come  back  from  the  wanderings  of 
our  thoughts  and  the  excitements  of  our  passions,  into 
our  own   spirits,  there   to   be  alone   with  God,  and 


iij  and  Ejaculatory  Prayer,  173 

consciously  under  His  eye,  can  there  fail  of  being  repose 
and  a  halcyon  calm  in  that  call  f 

2.  The  second  process  in  the  maintenance  of  animal 
life  is  exhalation:  the  throwing  out  of  the  breath  which 
has  been  inhaled. 

This  corresponds  in  nature  to  what  divines  have 
called  Ejaculatory  Prayer  in  the  spiritual  world.  Ejao- 
ulatory  Prayer  is  Prayer  darted  up  from  the  heart  to 
God,  not  at  stated  intervals,  but  in  the  course  of  our 
daily  occupations  and  amusements.  The  word  "  ejacu- 
latory  "  is  derived  from  the  Latin  word  for  a  dart  or  ar- 
row, and  there  is  an  idea  in  it  which  one  would  be  loath 
indeed  to  forfeit.  Imagine  an  English  archer,  strolling 
through  a  forest  in  the  old  times  of  Crecy  and  Agin- 
court,  when  the  yeomen  of  this  island  were  trained  to 
deliver  their  arrows  with  the  same  unfailing  precision 
as  "  a  Icfl-handed  Gibeonite  "  discharging  a  stone  bullet 
from  his  sling. "  A  bird  rises  in  the  brushwood  under 
his  feet,  a  bird  of  gorgeous  plumage  or  savoury  flesh. 
He  takes  an  arrow  from  his  quiver,  draw^s  his  bow  to 
its  full  stretch,  and  sends  the  shaft  after  the  bird  with 
the  speed  of  lightning.  Scarcely  an  instant  elapses  be- 
fore his  prey  is  at  his  feet.  It  has  been  struck  with  un- 
erring aim  in  the  critical  part,  and  drops  on  the  instant 
Very  similar  in  the  spiritual  world  is  the  force  of  what 
is  called  Ejaculatory  Prayer.  The  Christian  catches 
suddenly  a  glimpse  of  some  blessing,  deliverance,  re- 
lief, a  longing  after  which  is  induced  by  the  circum- 
stances into  which  he  is  thrown.  Presently  it  shall  be 
his.  As  the  archer  first  draws  the  bow  in  towards 
himself,  so  the  Christian  retires,  by  a  momentary  act  of 
recollection,  into  his  own  mind,  and  there  realizes  the 
Presence  of  God.  Then  he  launches  one  short,  fervent 
petition  into  the  ear  of  that  Awful  Presence,  throwing 


1'74  On  Self'JRecoUeciedness  [pari 

bis  whole  soul  into  the  request.  And,  lo,  it  is  done ! 
The  blessing  descends,  prosecuted,  overtaken,  pierced, 
fetched  down  from  the  vault  of  Heaven  by  the  winged 
arrow  of  Prayer.  Do  you  require  Scriptural  proof  that 
sucll  immediate  answers  are  occasionally  vouchsafed, 
even  as  regards  mere  earthly  blessings,  to  "  the  effectual 
fervent  prayer  of  a  righteous  man  ?  "  The  proof  is  ready 
to  our  hand.  Nehemiah,  the  cup-bexirer,  stood  with  a 
sad  countenance  before  Artaxerxes  the  king.  The  king 
seemed  offended  by  his  sadness,  unexplained,  as  it  was 
by  any  cause  with  which  the  king  could  sympathize. 
Nehemiah  knew  what  Solomon  had  written  long  ago, 
that  "  the  king's  wrath  is  as  the  roaring  of  a  lion," — 
that  to  offend  an  oriental  despot  is  all  one  with  having 
the  scimitar  suspended  over  one's  head,  or  the  bow- 
string slung  around  one's  neck.  So  "  he  was  very  sore 
afraid."  The  king  asked  him  expressly  what  would 
content  him.  This  made  the  case  worse,  for  Nehemiah 
had  a  large  request  to  make,  which  might  seem  to  the 
king  extravagant  and  presumptuous.  The  cup-bearer 
was  in  a  great  strait.  What  did  he  do  ?  He  entered 
into  the  closet  of  his  heart,  and  shut  his  door,  and 
prayed  to  his  Father  which  was  in  secret.  "  I  prayed," . 
says  he,  "  to  the  God  of  heaven."  To  offer  prayer  un- 
der such  circumstances  evinces  command  of  mind.  Not 
many  seconds  can  elapse  between  a  question  in  conver- 
sation and  the  answer  to  it ;  and  when  one  feels  that 
every  thing  is  suspended  on  the  success  of  the  answer, 
anxiety  and  excitement  would  combine  to  prevent  the 
offering  of  prayer  in  that  brief  interval.  But  Nehemiah 
had  disciplined  his  mind  to  w^atch  and  pray,  and  he 
made  the  most  of  the  interval,  such  as  it  w^as.  It  is 
hardly  conceivable  that  he  can  have  said  more  mentally 
than  "  Lord,  help  me  according  to  my  need ; "  but  then 


n.]  and  Ejaculatory  Prayer,  1 75 

lio  said  it  with  such  a  fervour  of  heart,  atid  such  an  en- 
tire faith  that  God  would  help  him,  that  it  was  as  suc- 
cessful as  if  he  had  spent  a  whole  night  in  prayer.  lie 
candidly  explained  his  wishes,  in  answer  to  the  king ; 
and  down  came  the  blessing  immediately.  The  king's 
cloudy  brow  cleared  all  of  a  sudden,  like  a  storm  in  an 
April  day.  Ho  took  the  request  very  graciously,  and 
the  all-important  crisis  for  Nehemiah,  and  for  the  city 
of  his  fathers,  passed  off  well.  "  So  it  pleased  the  king 
to  send  me."  One  short  act  of  the  mind,  one  strong 
shaft  of  Prayer,  had  won  the  restoration  of  the  Holy 
City,  the  joy  of  the  whole  earth. 

But  Ejaculatory  Prayer  is  to  be  used  not  simply  in 
difficulties,  and  when  our  affairs  are  in  a  critical  posture, 
though  such  circumstances  most  especially  call  for  it,  but 
from  time  to  time,  all  along  the  course  of  the  day.  But 
here  some  difficulty  will  be  felt  by  those  who  strive  to 
adopt  the  practice. 

When  the  mind  is  under  the  pressure  of  anxiety  or 
alarm,  then,  of  course,  there  is  a  ready  supply  of 
materials  for  our  petitions,  and  the  only  difficulty  is  the 
attainment  of  sufficient  presence  of  mind  to  offer  them. 
The  compilers  of  our  Liturgy,  as  feeling,  I  suppose, 
that  in  extraordinary  emergencies  this  presence  of  mind 
soon  deserts  ordinary  men,  and  that  in  such  a  cxise 
forms  might  steady  the  mind,  and  help  it  forward  in 
the  direction  in  which  it  wished  to  travel,  have  supplied 
in  "The  Forms  of  Prayer  to  be  used  at  Sea,"  certain 
ejaculations  for  individuals,  under  the  circumstances  of 
a  sea-fight  or  a  storm,  which,  like  all  other  parts  of  the 
Liturgy,  are  simple  and  appropriate,  and  which  should 
bo  mentioned  here,  because  they  form  our  Church's 
testimony  to  the  value  and  importance  of  Ejaculatory 
Prayer ;  but  in  common  and  uneventful  life  the  mind 


176  On  Self'Becollectedness  [pari 

will  often  experience  a  want  of  topics  for  this  sort  of 
prayer,  and  without  a  store  of  such  topics  it  will  bo 
barren,  and  feel  no  spontaneity  or  freedom  in  the  exer- 
cise. A  passage  of  Scripture,  selected  from  our  morn- 
ing's reading,  or  some  one  event  in  the  history  of  Our 
Lord,  particularly  in  -tlie  history  of  His  passion,  may 
often  prove  serviceable  in  supplying  this  need.  On 
turning  over  at  leisure  moments  the  incident  or  the  pas- 
sage in  our  minds,  the  fire  will  kindle,  and  we  shall 
speak,  if  not  with  our  tongues,  yet  with  our  hearts,  to 
God.  One  great  master  of  devotion  recommends  us, 
after  our  morning  meditation,  to  select  some  one  thought 
which  has  most  pleased  and  interested  us,  and  to  carry 
it  away  with  us  for  our  spiritual  refreshment  in  the  in- 
tervals of  business ;  "as  a  man,"  he  says,  " does  not 
quit  a  pleasant  garden,  until  he  has  gathered  a  nose- 
gay, with  the  scent  of  which  he  may  refresh  himself 
during  the  day."  It  should  be  added  that  the  great 
repertory  for  ejaculations,  to  which  every  servant  of 
God  has  resorted  for  ages,  sure  to  find  something  there 
congenial  to  his  wants,  and  coming  home  with  peculiar 
power  to  his  heart,  is  the  Psalter,  or  Book  of  Psalms. 
Those  who  are  ambitious  of  leading  the  devout  life 
should  have  a  large  portion  of  the  Psalms  at  the  dispo- 
sal of  their  memory. 

It  may  be  asked,  in  conclusion,  whether,  if  constant 
mental  Prayer  be  faithfully  maintained,  stated  Prayer 
might  not  be  altogether  dispensed  with.  Looking  at 
our  great  Exemplar,  we  answer  somewhat  positively. 
No.  Our  Blessed  Lord's  human  soul  breathed  the 
atmosphere  of  habitual  Prayer.  He  prayed  without 
ceasing,  in  the  length  and  breadth  of  that  precept.  Yet 
did  He  not  dispense  with  stated  seasons  of  Prayer. 
Dispense  with  them  !  He  continued  one  whole  night  in 


II.]  and  Ejaculatorij  /  IV  7 

praj..  ,  »  ..  Though  His  human  heart  v....,  .„:i 
God  through  all  tho  busiest  day,  yet  at  the  close  of 
that  day,  when  lie  had  dismissed  tho  multitudes,  Ho 
retired  to  the  mountain-summit  to  engage  in  solitary 
stated  prayer,  afar  from  the  hum  of  men  and  the  tur- 
moils of  tlu5  earth.  What  does  such  an  example  prove, 
but  that  wo  may  not  exonerate  ourselves  from  direct 
acts  of  worship,  on  the  plea  that  both  mind  and  heart 
have  been  seeking  God  all  day  long  ?  Wo  have  said, 
indeed,  and  say  again,  that  Prayer  is  tho  act  of  spiri- 
tual respiration ; — that  true  Prayer  can  no  more  bo 
limited  to  certain  hours,  than  respiration  can.  Yet 
even  the  image  itself  does  not  warrant  us  in  thinking 
lightly  of  the  virtue  of  stated  Prayer.  It  is  true, 
indeed,  that  life  can  be  supported  even  in  the  populous 
market,  in  tho  crowded  street,  nay,  in  tho  worst  ven- 
tilated alleys,  so  long  as  respiration  continues;  but 
what  a  source  of  health  and  strength  would  the  poor 
overwrought  artisan  find,  if  he  C50uld  resort  now  and 
then  to  the  transparent  air  of  the  open  country,  undc- 
filed  by  smoke,  to  the  purple-heathered  down,  where 
sweet  gales  fan  the  cheek,  or  to  the  margin  of  the 
ocean,  over  whose  surface  careers  the  invigorating 
wind !  In  spots  like  these  we  not  only  breathe,  but 
breathe  easily,  freely,  and  spontaneously ;  the  mere 
process  of  animal  life  is  a  delight  to  us,  and  with  every 
breath  we  drink  in  health.  Such  is  the  efiect  of  an 
hour  of  stated  Prayer  after  a  day  busily,  yet  devoutly 
spent.  That  hour  wonderfully  recruits  the  energies  of 
the  soul  which  human  infirmity  has  caused  to  flag  ;  and 
if  we  cannot  say  with  truth,  that  such  an  hour  is  abso- 
lutely necessary  to  spiritual  existence^  yet  we  can  say 
that  it  is  absolutely  necessary  to  spiritual  health  and 
well'heing. 


178  On  Self-Recollectedness  [part 

In  concluding  the  second  part  of  our  Thoughts  on 
Personal  Religion,  which  has  been  occupied  with  the 
devotional  exercises  of  the  Christian,  we  venture  to  ex- 
press the  hope  that  there  has  been  a  real  endeavour  on 
the  part  of  some  at  least  of  our  readers  to  turn  these 
counsels  into  practice.  We  set  out  with  the  observa* 
tion  that  modern  preaching  addresses  itself  almost  ex- 
clusively to  stimulate  the  conscience,  and  overlooks  the 
humbler  but  equally  necessary  work  of  guiding  it, — so 
that  the  quiet  edification  of  well-disposed  Christians, 
the  bringing  them  on  to  the  measure  of  the  stature  of 
the  fulness  of  Christ,  is  often  sacrificed  to  the  conver- 
sion of  evil  livers.  In  these  pages  w^e  have  been  at- 
tempting (in  a  humble  way)  a  movement  in  the  oppo- 
site direction.  It  is  plain,  however,  that  the  movement 
must  fail,  unless  the  readers  co-operate  with  the  writer, 
not  so  much  by  passively  submitting  themselves  to  im- 
pressions, as  by  active  concurrence  with  his  advice. 
It  has  been  our  purpose,  and  we  hope  we  have  made  it 
apparent  that  it  is  our  purpose,  not  so  much  to  give 
thoughts  which  may  arouse,  as  to  make  recommenda- 
tions which  may  be  tried.  My  reader,  have  you  tried 
them  %  And  if  so,  are  you  already,  it  may  be,  dis- 
'pirited  by  a  sense  of  failure  1  Take  courage,  in  the 
name  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  once  again  assault  the  great 
task  of  spirituality  of  mind.  Was  any  solid  and  grand 
attainment  ever  yet  made  without  repeated  failures  ? 
Did  ever  any  one  climb  to  the  pinnacle  of  human  am- 
bition without  repeated  checks,  and  hindrances,  and 
disappointments,  and  manifold  changes  of  worldly  tac- 
tics %  And  is  it  to  be  imagined  that  a  man  can  climb 
the  Jacob's  ladder  of  sanctity,  whereupon  angels  are 
continually  passing  one  another  on  Divine  errands,  add- 
ing "  to  his  faith  virtue,  and  to  virtue  knowledge,  and 


u.]  and  Ejaculatory  Prayer,  179 

to  knowledge  temperance,  and  to  temperance  patience, 
and  to  patience  godliness,  and  to  godliness  brotherly 
kindness,  and  to  brotherly  kindness  charity,'"  without  a 
resolute  energy  of  will,  and  a  buoyancy  of  spirit  which 
is  determined  to  succeed?  For  what  other  purpose 
was  the  Saviour's  Blood  shed,  and  the  Saviour's  Grace 
poured  forth,  but  to  create  such  an  energy  ?  Forward, 
then,  M'arriors  of  the  Cross,  in  the  courage  which  is 
ministered  by  that  Blood  and  that  Grace.  Where  the 
will  is  stcdfast,  and  the  heart  is  whole  with  God,  ground 
is  gained  unconsciously  to  ourselves.  This  one  thing 
do,  "forgetting  those  things  which  are  behind,  and 
reaching  forth  unto  those  things  which  are  before,  press 
towards  the  mark  for  the  prize  of  the  high  calling  of 
God  in  Christ  Jesus."  And  be  your  motto  that  of 
Gideon's  wearied  but  undaunted  troop, — "  Faint,  rjcr 


PART   III. 

THE  PRACTICAL    LIFB- 


CHAPTER  L 

WHAT  HOLDS  US  BACK. 

"  Work  out  your  own  »alvcUion  wUhfear  and  tremblinff.  For  it  is 
God  vhkh  worketh  in  you  both  to  will  emd  to  do  of  Jd»  good 
pJMUttTs.'*— Phil.  iL  12,  18. 

Tub  present  little  Treatise,  upon  the  third  part  of 
which  wo  are  now  about  to  enter,  is  occupied  with 
giving  certain  practical  directions  to  those  who,  not 
content  with  passively  receiving  religious  impressions, 
desire  to  grow  in  grace  and  in  the  knowledge  of  our 
Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ.  Wo  are  making  an 
extended  comment  upon  that  exhortation  of  St.  Peter : 
"And  beside  this,"  (beside  that  purifying  faith  in 
(jk>d*s  "  exceeding  great  and  precious  promises,"  which 
lies  at  the  root  of  all  true  religion,)  "  giving  all  dili- 
gence, add  to  your  faith  virtue ;  and  to  virtue  know- 
ledge ;  and  to  knowledge  temperance ;  and  to  tempe- 
rance patience  ;  and  to  patience  godliness  ;  and  to  god- 
liness brotherly  kindness;  and  to  brotherly  kindness 
charity." 

Anxious  for  the  success  of  what  is  being  said,  and 
knowing  that  this  success  is  entirely  of  a  practical  and 
experimental  character,  we  feel  disposed  at  intervals  to 
turn  round  to  our  readers,  and  ask  of  tliem  how  they 
are  progressing?  And  if  the  answer  should  be,  as  in 
some  cases  doubtless  it  will  be,  that  they  are  making 
no  sensible  progress  at  all,  and  that  their  efforts   in 


184  }V7iai  holds  us  back.  [part 

the  pursuit  of  holiness  are  continually  baffled,  and 
meet  with  disappointment,  wg  wish  to  take  that  confes- 
sion as  a  symptom, — if  the  trial  has  had  a  fair  space 
of  time  allotted  to  it, — that  something  is  wrong  with 
them,  and  to  stop  on  our  journey,  and  ask  what  that 
wrong  thing  is. 

Let  this  Chapter  then  be  devoted  to  the  inquiry, 
What  is  it  which  often  holds  back  those,  who  appear  to 
be  earnest  in  '^  working  out  their  own  salvation  ?  " 
And  may  God  throw  upon  our  minds  that  inward  light 
which  alone  can  expose  the  error  to  our  cons'ciences, 
and  bring  us  into  the  path  of  truth. 

Now  the  celebrated  passage  to  the  Philippians,  to 
which  I  have  just  referred,  contains  in  itself  the  detec- 
tion and  exposure  of  the  error.  "  Work  out  your  own 
salvation,"  writes  the  Apostle,  "  with  fear  and  trem- 
bling ; "  intimating  most  assuredly,  whatever  Calvin 
may  say  to  the  contrary,  that  the  human  will  has  a 
certain  part  to  play  in  the  matter  of  salvation,  and  that 
it  must  be  played  with  all  earnestness,  yea,  even  with 
an  agonizing  earnestness,  "  with  fear  and  trembling  ; " 
but  then  he  immediately  subjoins,  "/or  it  is  God  that 
worketh  in  you,"  intimating  most  assuredly,  whatever 
Arminius  may  say  to  the  contrary,  that  we  cannot 
ourselves  work  in  ourselves,  or  produce  from  our- 
selves, a  single  one  of  the  dispositions  that  constitute 
holiufess, — that  the  origin,  progress,  and  maturity  of 
those  dispositions  is  all  of  free  grace,  just  as  entirely 
as  the  forgiveness  of  sins  is.  It  is,  then,  on  this  ground 
we  will  look  for  our  error,  if  so  be  we  may  find  it.  It 
is  more  than  likely,  if  we  are  hanging  back  in  the 
Christian  course,  either  that  we  are  not  surrendering 
our  will  honestly  and  unreservedly  to  God,  to  be  and 
to  do  as  He  bids  us,  and  virtually  saying,  "  I  will  not 


in.]  Whai  holds  us  back.  186 

work  at  all,  because  it  is  God  that  workcth  in  inc  j" 
or,  secondly,  that,  from  a  mistake  as  to  tlie  nature 
of  sanctification,  we  are  really  looking  to  our  own 
miserable  cfTorts  to  sanctify  us — putting  a  round  of 
ordinances,  and  duties,  and  performances,  into  the  place 
of  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  virtually  saying,  "  It  is  I  who 
work  in  myself  both  to  will  and  to  do  of  God's  good 
pleasure." 

By  way  of  illustrating  these  contrary  errors  more 
clearly,  let  us  imagine  the  case  of  a  patient  placed  under 
a  physician  of  most  eminent  skill,  who  has  closely 
studied  similar  cases,  and  heretofore  infallibly  restored 
them  by  his  treatment, — making  no  progress.  Ke- 
covery  seems  to  be  on  the  whole  as  far  as  when  he 
first  consulted  the  physician ;  and  even  if  one  day 
there  seems  to  be  a  little  improvement,  the  next  day 
the  hopes,  to  which  that  improvement  gave  rise,  are 
thrown  back  ;  if  symptoms  are  somewhat  repressed, 
there  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  the  malady  is  still 
there.  Now,  supposing  the  physician's  skill  to  be 
abundantly  competent  to  a  radical  cure,  it  is  evident 
that  the  non-recovery  must  spring  from  the  patient's 
never  having  fairly  surrendered  himself  into  the 
physician's  hands.  And  this  want  of  an  entire  sur- 
render  may  take  one  of  two  forms.  Either  the  patient 
may  not  implicitly  follow  the  physician's  orders ;  or, 
not  having  a  full  trust  in  him,  and  being  persuaded  of 
the  efficacy  of  certain  other  systems  of  medecinc,  he 
may  be  giving  those  systems  a  trial  side  by  side  with 
the  course  which  physicians  prescribe,  and  thereby 
nullifying  the  efficacy  of  that  course.  ITie  not  follow- 
ing the  physician's  prescriptions,  or  the  following  his 
own  theories  as  well,  both  may  equally  defeat  his 
recovery. 


186  What  holds  us  back.  jPAin 

Au other  illustration,  ^Yllich,  from  the  nature  of  it,  is 
even  clearer  still. — What  are  the  conditions,  which 
alone  could  frustrate  the  progress  upon  a  river  of  a 
strong  man  and  an  expert  rower,  placed  in  a  good  and 
swift  boat,  and  furnished  with  oars?  Such  an  one 
might  either  not  use  the  oars  at  all,  or  use  only  one  of 
them.  And  the  result  in  each  case  would  be  practically 
much  the  same.  In  both  cases  the  boat  would  drift 
with  the  stream ;  and  the  only  difference  would  be, 
that,  when  one  oar  was  vigorously  applied,  the. boat,  in 
addition  to  drifting,  would  move  round  and  roomd  in  a 
circle,  and  might  perhaps  for  a  while  mock  the  rower 
by  the  semblance  of  progress.  In  spiritual  things 
there  are  those  who  are  utterly  careless  and  godless — 
dead  alike  to  the  claims  of  Religion,  and  to  its  hopes. 
These  are  they  who,  launched  upon  the  stream  of  life, 
quietly  drift  down  it,  giving  no  thought  to  the  life 
which  is  to  come  after,  and  seeking  only  to  gather  the 
few  perishable  flowers  which  grow  upon  the  brink. 
And,  among  persons  of  more  serious  mind,  there  are 
those,  who  are  willing  indeed  that  Christ  should  do  all 
for  them,  but  have  never  surrendered  themselves  to 
Ilim  to  be  and  do  all  He  requires.  And  there  are 
those,  on  the  other  hand,  who  have  surrendered  the 
will  to  Christ,  and  are  making  efforts  to  obey  Him  : 
but  because  they  perceive  not  this  simple  truth,  that 
they  cannot  sanctify  themselves, — that  sanctification, 
from  first  to  last,  like  justification,  must  be  wrought 
for  us  by  Him, — are  constantly  met  by  failures  and 
disappointments,  which  a  simple  trust  in  Him  to  do  all 
for  them  can  alone  remedy.  Both  these  last  are  they 
who  are  rowing  with  one  oar,  moving  indeed,  but 
moving  in  a  circle,  and  coming  round  always  to  the 
same  point  from  which  they  started, — deluding  them- 


ui.]  Whal  holds  U8  bacJk,  I  dl 

selves  for  a  mIuIo,  by  Uie  very  fact  of  their  motion, 
with  the  idea  that  they  are  progressing;  and  often 
bitterly  complaining,  as  soon  as  they  are  undeceived, 
that  they  are  making  no  way.  And  finally  there  are 
those  who  are  equally  well  contented  to  give  all  to 
Christ  which  they  have  to  give,  (that  is,  their  will,) 
and  to  take  all  from  Him  whidi  Ho  has  to  give, 
sanctification,  and  wisdom,  as  well  as  righteousness, 
— ^who  in  one  and  the  same  act  of  faith  have  re- 
nounced both  self-will  and  self-trust.  These  are  they 
who  are  rowing  with  two  oars,  and  so  realizing  a 
true  progress  towards  that  haven  where  they  would  be. 
Show  me  a  man  who  is  both  giving  to  Christ  all  ho 
has  to  give,  that  is,  his  will,  and  at  the  same  timo 
taking  from  Christ  all  Christ  has  to  give,  which  is, 
a  perfect  salvation  from  sin's  guilt,  power,  and  con- 
sequences ;  or,  as  the  Apostle  expresses  it,  "  wisdom, 
and  righteousness,  and  sanctification,  and  redemp- 
tion;" and  I  will  show  you  a  man  who  is  growing 
ia  grace,  and  advancing  daily  in  meetness  for  the  in- 
heritance of  the  saints  in  light.  And  if  we  find  our- 
selves not  thus  growing  and  advancing,  and  yet  are  cer- 
tainly well-disposed  persons  of  some  seriousness  of 
mind,  it  is,  no  doubt,  that  we  are  endeavouring  to  push 
the  boat  forward  with  only  one  of  the  oars,  to  reach 
that  holiness  without  which  no  man  shall  see  the  Lord, 
with  trust  in  Christ  alone,  or  with  self-surrender  alone. 
Apply  the  other  oar  simultaneously,  and  the  bark  shall 
at  once  begin  to  cleave  the  water,  as  an  arrow  cleaves 
the  air,  straightforward. 

TVTiat  I  have  said  reduces  itself  to  two  very  simple 
axiomatic  positions,  practically,  experimentally,  and 
really  consistent  with  one  another,  even  if  in  this  life 
we  can  never  see  their  precise  speculative  adjustment. 


188  What  holds  us  back,  [part 

1.  We  must  give  ourselves  up  to  God,  to  be 
sanotified. 

2.  We  can  by  no  possibility, — by  no  efforts,  striv- 
ings, prayers,  penances  whatever, — sanctify  ourselves. 

1.  We  must  give  ourselves  up  to  God,  to  he  sanc- 
tified. Have  we  ever  done  this  %  Have  we  done  it 
honestly  and  without  reserving  a  single  corner  of  the 
heart  ?  or  are  we  keeping  back  part  of  the  price  of  the 
land,  like  Ananias  and  Sapphira,  and  bringing  only  a 
certain  part,  and  laying  it  down  at  the  feet  of  our 
Heavenly  Master,  as  if  it  were  the  whole  ?  Ah  !  He 
sees  through  all  disguises ;  and  His  eyes,  which  are  as 
a  flame  of  lire,  immediately  detect  the  insincerity  of 
our  souls.  And  the  awful  punishment  will  be,  that 
He  will  not  take  us  under  His  efficacious  treatment, 
unless  we  submit  ourselves  to  Him  unreservedly ;  and 
unless  the  Divine  Physician  treats  us  for  sin,  we  shall 
never  recover  of  sin ;  and  unless  we  recover  of  sin, 
unless  the  moral  malady  be  stanched  in  us  by.  the 
Blood  and  Grace  of  Christ, — salvation  is  for  us  out  of 
the  question.  Indeed,  salvation  is  mainly  and  essen- 
tially from  sin, — from  sin  itself  in  its  guilt  and  power, 
— and  only  accidentally  from  sin's  consequences. 

Ah,  how  many  are  there  who  content  themselves 
with  lop-sided  faith — trust  without  surrender !  But 
the  truth  is,  that  a  lop-sided  faith  is  no  faith  at  all. 
The  disposition  called  faith  embraces  God's  commands 
with  obedience,  as  well  as  His  promises  with  trust. 
Abraham  is  the  great  Scriptural  pattern  of  faith  ;  and 
Abraham's  faith  appears  no  less  in  his  obeying  than  in 
hi&  believing  God.  Where.  God's  will  takes  the  form 
of  a  precept,  Abraham  does  it  without  a  moment's 
hesitation ;  where  it  takes  the  form  of  a  promise,  he 
rests  assured  that  there  will  be  a  fulfilment.     God  bids 


Ill  ]  What  holds  vs  back.  /^    V>  \  '-    isi/ 

him  leave  his  ci->untryand  his  kindrcdl  ho  teaveilhiem. 
God  bids  him  slay  his  son  ;  ho  woul^^v«  shun  hU 
son,  had  not  God  interposed.  God  tells  ii{nv  that  his 
seed  should  be  as  the  stara  of  heaven,  when^t  only 
had  ho  no  child,  but  when  it  was  contrary  to  the  course 
of  nature  that  he  should  bo  blest  with  offspring ;  and 
Abraham  rests  assured  that  it  will  be  as  God  says. 
God  tells  him  that  in  Isaac  shall  his  seed  be  called,  and 
Abraham  believes  it,  even  when  called  to  offer  up  Isaac, 
accounting  (oh !  grand  reach  of  faith,  under  that  very 
twilight  dispensation  !)  that  God  was  able  to  raise  him 
up  even  from  the  dead.  That  is  the  whole-hearted ncss 
both  towards  precept  and  promise,  which  God  so  much 
approves,  and  which  is  called  Faith.  Is  there,  then, 
aught  which  keeps  us  from  an  unreserved  putting 
ourselves  at  Christ's  disposal  1  Is  it  the  fear  of  ridicule 
or  contempt  from  an  irreligious  circlet  the  fear  of 
being  accounted  over-strict,  methodistical,  puritanical, 
or  what  not  1  Is  the  love  of  any  sin  so  strong  in  us 
that  we  cannot  fairly  put  ourselves  in  Christ's  hands 
for  treatment,  saying,  "Here  am  I,  Lord,  to  do  as 
regards  this  sin  whatsoever  by  Thy  Spirit  in  my 
conscience  Thou  shalt  sufTfrest  ?  "     Is  the  surrender  of 

Do 

our  substance  a  hard  saying  to  us,  as  to  the  rich  young 
man  in  the  Gospel  ?  "While  we  are  willing  to  do  many 
things  for  Christ,  and  hear  sermons  gladly,  are  we 
strongly  disinclined  to  relinquish  our  grasp  upon  that 
proportion  of  our  income,  to  which  an  enlightened 
conscience  tells  us  that  Christ  has  a  fair  claim?  Is 
indolence  mingled  with  cowardice  an  obstacle  to  effort, 
as  of  old  in  the  wilderness,  when  the  people  cried, 
"The  cities  are  great  and  walled  up  to  heaven ;  and, 
moreover,  wo  have  seen  the  sons  of  the  Anakims 
there  ?"  Are  we  willing  to  have  religious  impressions 
made  upon  us,  but  not  willing  to  gird  up  our  loins  for 


190  What  holds  tcs  back.  [part 

an  earnest  wrestling-match  with  the  powers  of  dark- 
ness, not  willing  to  apply  our  shoulder  to  the  wheel 
and  move  it  out  of  the  old  cart-rut  of  bad  habits  1 
Probe  your  consciences  with  these  and  similar  ques- 
tions. To  surrender  himself  from  the  very  ground  of 
his  heart  to  sanctification,  is  all  that  man  can  do  in  the 
matter.     Have  you  ever  done  it  ? 

2ndly,  We  entreat  you  to  take  with  you  through 
this  whole  treatise,  this  other  axiomatic  and  funda- 
mental jtruth,  (hat  man  can  by  no  possibility  sqnctify 
himself. 

We  devoted  a  Chapter  to  this  subject  (Chap.  III. 
Part  I.)  in  the  Introductory  Part  of  this  work ;  but  it 
is  of  such  transcendent  importance,  and,  in  the  active 
pursuit  of  Holiness,  so  liable  to  be  dropped  out  of  mind, 
that  the  reader  must  excuse  us,  if  we  here  briefly  re- 
capitulate the  argument  of  that  Chapter.  It  was  there 
observed  that  men  recognize,  indeed,  the  Atonement  as 
being  exclusively  Christ's  work,  and  the  Forgiveness 
of  sins  as  His  procuring  and  His  free  gift;  but  they 
entertain  a  notion  that,  after  forgiveness,  they  are  to 
go  and  v/ork  out  sanctification  for  themselves  inde- 
pendently of  Christ's  working  in  them,  and,  in  the 
ground  of  their  heart,  look  to  be  sanctified  by  their 
prayers,  and  their  communions,  and  their  watchfulness, 
and  their  self-discipline,  and  their  self-denials,  and  their 
cultivation  of  good  habits,  which  is  just  as  great  an 
error  as  looking  to  be  justified  by  these  things.  In 
short,  they  have  never  understood  the  force  of  those 
words;  "Christ  Jesus  of  God  is  made  unto  us  not 
righteousness  only,  but  sanctification."  We  are  justi 
fied  or  forgiven  simply  by  throwing  ourselves  upon 
Christ  for  forgiveness,  renouncing  all  merit  in  ourselves, 
and  looking  to  His  Agony  and  Bloody  Sweat,  His 
Cross  and  Passion.     And  in  exactly  the  same  vray  we 


m.]  What  holds  us  back.  101 

arc  sanctified  by  simple  dependence  upon   Christ   to 

work  in  us  by  the  Spirit  every  grace  wo  need,  by  aban- 
doning the  treatment  of  ourselves  for  sin,  and  lookinj^ 
to  the  good  Physician  out  of  His  fulness  to  supply 
such  remedies  and  such  virtues  as  will  efTcctually  make 
us  whole.  It  is  most  true  indeed  that  heartfelt  surren- 
der of  our  wills  to  the  will  of  God,  involves  human  ef« 
fort  in  every  shape  which  elTort  can  scripturally  take; 
but  it  is  equall  y  true  that  human  effort  is  no  saviour, 
iiiul  true  also  that  the  Saviour  will  not  give  to  it,  or 
have  us  give  to  it,  that  honour  which  is  exclusively 
I  lis.  Blessed  things  are  Prayer,  and  Sacraments,  and 
watchfulness,  and  rules  of  life,  and  self-discipline,  and 
self-denial,  when  they  occupy  their  right  place  in  the 
spiritual  system,  as  means,  channels,  and  instruments ; 
but  if  they  bo  unduly  magnified,  so  as  to  cover  the 
whole  field  of  view ;  if  we  for  a  moment  allow  our 
minds  to  regard  them  as  sources  of  Grace,  and  trust  to 
them  to  work  in  us  sanctity,  we  shall  be  as  utterly  dis- 
appointed in  them,  as  the  poor  woman  who  had  the  is- 
sue of  blood  was  with  the  many  physicians,  from  whom 
she  had  suffered  many  things,  but  never  brought  away 
a  cure.  Mark  me,  reader,  our  sanctification  is  in  Christ, 
not  independent  of  Him,  and  therefore  not  to  be  had 
independently.  Touch  his  sacred  Person  in  simple 
faith  that  in  Him  doth  all  fulness  dwell, — fulness  of 
light  and  love,  of  holy  tempers,  holy  impulses,  and  of 
all  the  fruits  of  the  Spirit, — and  the  virtue  which  is  in 
Him  shall  instantly  begin  to  flow,  through  the  channel 
which  faith  has  opened,  into  your  soul.  This  is  His 
own  teaching,  not  ours,  "Abide  in  me,  and  I  in  you. 
As  the  branch  cannot  bear  fruit  of  itself,  except  it 
abide  in  the  vine ;  no  more  can  ye,  except  ye  abide  in 
me.     I   am   the   vine,  ye  are   the  branches :  he   that 


192  Whai  holds  us  back,  [pari 

abideth  in  me,  and  I  in  him,  the  same  bringcth  forth 
much  fruit :  for  without  me "  (separated  from  me) 
''  ye  can  do  nothing."  "  Ye  can  do  nothing," — not  ad- 
vance a  step  in  love,  joy,  or  peace,  or  in  any  grace 
which  qualifies  for  Heaven.  The  righteousness  of 
sanctification  is  technically  said  by  divines  to  be  inher- 
ent in  us  ;  and  the  term  is  useful,  as  serving  to  draw  a 
distinction  between  this  and  the  righteousness  of  justi- 
fication, which  is  imputed,  and  outside  of  us, — laid  to 
our  account,  without  being  in  any  sense  ours  ;  but  we 
must  not  so  understand  the  phrase  as  if  righteousness 
were  inherent  in  us  independently  or  apart  from  Christ. 
The  sap  circulates  through  the  living  branch  of  the 
vine,  but  not  independently  or  apart  from  the  root  and 
stock  of  the  tree.  Separated  from  the  tree,  the  branch 
has  no  life  whatever,  and  is  unable  to  put  forth  a  sin- 
gle bud  or  blossom.  The  sap  in  the  branch  is  not  from 
or  of  the  branch,  it  is  only  derivative, — drawn  from 
the  living  energies  of  the  root  and  stem.  And  so  the 
Christian's  holiness  ;  it  is  never  held  independently,  but 
derived  from  the  fountain-head  of  holiness,  and  that 
fountain-head  is  Christ.  And  what  we  have  to  do  is  to 
keep  open  continually  the  communication  between 
Christ  and  the  soul,  by  repeated  exercises  of  the  ^ame 
simple  faith  (or  trust)  in  Him,  which  at  first  was  the 
instrument  of  our  justification.  We  stretched  forth 
the  hand  of  faith,  and  received  out  of  Christ  the  forgive- 
ness which  He  purchased  for  us ;  we  must  stretch  it 
forth  again,  and  again,  and  again,  to  receive  that  meet- 
ness  for  glory  which  He  gradually  imparts.  Without 
holding  this  fundamental  truth  before  our  eyes,  without 
the  most  entire  trust  in  Christ  to  work  in  us  every 
grace  of  the  Christian  character,  and  utter  renunciation 
of  trust  in.  ourselves,  all  our  efibrts  in  the  pursuit  of 


m.]  What  holds  u«  back\  193 

holiness  will  bo  only  an  unblessed  toiling  ai)d  moiling, 
— so  much  work,  and  worry,  and  fruitless  striving, 
without  any  appreciable  result.  Has  your  error  lain 
in  this  quarter?  It  is  so  with  many  ro^illy  devoted 
people,  who  have  a  character  for  knowledge  in  the 
things  of  God.  Many  are  the  followers  after  holi- 
ness, the  secret  of  whoso  failure  is  all  wrapped  up  in 
those  few  words  of  the  Apostle,  "  Not  holding  the 
Head,"  and  who  need  to  bo  taken  back  to  the  first 
rudiments  of  religions  knowledge,  and  told  by  the  Cat- 
echist,  "  My  good  child,  know  tliat  thou  art  not  able  to 
do  these  things  of  thyself,  nor  to  walk  in  the  com- 
mandments of  God,  and  to  serve  Ilini,  witiiout  Ilis 
special  grace  *^ 

We  cannot  bring  this  Chapter  to  a  close  without 
pointing  to  the  confirmation  which  the  doctrine  of  it 
derives  from  the  Baptismal  Covenant. 

Observe,  then,  that  Baptism  is  a  covenant,  in  which 
there  are  two  contracting  parties,  God  and  the  Cate- 
chumen, both  pledging  themselves  to  certain  conditions, 
and  both  having  a  certain  part  of  their  own  to  perform. 
This  is  very  forcibly  brought  out  by  our  Formularies, 
both  for  the  Baptism  of  Infants,  and  of  Adults.  In  the 
first  place,  on  the  part  of  the  Catechumen,  there  is  self-de- 
dication, implying  complete  surrender  of  the  will,  nay, 
of  the  man's  whole  self  to  God.  Ho  renounces  (i.e. 
declares  war  against)  all  siti,  from  whatsoever  avenue 
it  may  make  its  assault ;  he  avows  implicit  belief  of 
all  God  says,  and  he  puts  himself  entirely  at  God's  bid- 
ding, to  "  keep  his  holy  will  and  commandments,  and 
walk  in  the*  same  all  the  days  of  his  life."  It  is  very 
important  to  remark,  that  it  is  not  simply  belief,  but 
also  a  preparedness  of  the  'joill,  which  he,  if  an  adult,  in 
9 


194  What  holds  us  bach.  [part 

his  own  person,  if  an  infant,  by  his  sureties,  is  required 
to  profess.  The  terms  are  by  no  means  to  be  con- 
strued as  a  promise  that  he  will  never  sin,  which  would 
be  a  rash  and  unwarrantable  vow  indeed  ;  but  are  ex- 
actly equivalent  to  an  act  of  self-surrender,  and  might 
scripturally  be  represented  thus  :  "  I  present  ipy  body 
(this  body,  on  which  the  seal  of  Holy  Baptism  is  now 
to  be  impressed)  a  living  sacrifice,  holy,  acceptable  to 
God,  which  is  my  reasonable  service."  It  is  the  Chris- 
tian offering  himself  as  a  victim  at  God's  altar,  "  Lo,  I 
come  to  do  thy  will,  O  God  !  " 

But  is  that  the  whole  of  Baptism  ?  By  no  means, 
nor  even  the  chief  part  of  it.  The  victim  must  not 
only  be  presented,  but  fire  must  fall  from  Heaven  upon 
it ;  there  is  God's  part  as  well  as  man's  part  to  be  con- 
sidered. There  is  a  gift  to  be  bestowed,  as  well  as  a 
vow  to  be  made,  and  the  candidate  himself  cannot  pos- 
sibly do  God's  part ;  it  must  be  done  for  him,  and  up- 
on him.  No  man  ever  heard  of  a  person's  baptizing 
himself;  that  would  be  indeed  an  absurd  impossibility  ; 
he  may  dedicate  himself  to  God  by  an  act  of  self-sur- 
render, which  some  suppose  to  be  the  whole  of  Bap- 
tism, but  to  be  born  of  water  and  of  the  Spirit,  "  to  be 
received  into  Christ's  holy  Church,  and  be  made  a  lively 
member  of  the  same,"  this  is  far  above  out  of  his  reach. 
The  Church  of  his  day,  or  rather  Christ  acting  through 
the  Church,  confers  upon  him  Baptism,  with  its  grace 
and  its  gift,  howsoever  that  gift  may  be  defined.  If  he  is 
an  infant  at  the  time  of  receiving  it,  as  we  all  were, 
and  Baptism  is  to  be  of  the  smallest  avail  to  him  ulti- 
mately, he  must  realize  his  Baptism  experimen- 
tally, and  that  as  to  both  parts  of  the  contract :  he 
must  now  by  his  own  act  and  deed  surrender  himself 
utterly  and  uureservedly  to  God,  which  is  the  teaching 


m.]  DoallforQod.  106 

of  Confirmation,  although  thousands  of  confirmed  per- 
sons have  never  done  it;  and  for  his  sanctification,  his 
growth  in  grace,  his  spiritual  fruitfulncss,  his  interior 
qualifications  for  glory,  he  must  look  to  Christ  and 
Christ  alone,  in  whom  by  the  Father^s  appointment 
"  all  fulness  dwells,"  using  diligently  the  means,  of 
course,  because  Christ  enjoins  them,  but  not  putting 
the  means  in  Christ's  place.  If  ho  will  not  dedicate 
himself,  the  Lord  will  not  send  down  the  fiery  Baptism 
of  the  Holy  Ghost  upon  him  :  if  ho  will  dedicate  him- 
self, and  will  expect  from  the  act  of  dedication  the  gift; 
of  the  Holy  Ghost,  he  will  find  himself  bitterly  disap- 
pointed ;  but  if  he  will  both  dedicate  himself,  and  at 
the  same  time  look  to  Christ's  fulness  for  the  progres- 
sive work  (  f  sanctification,  as  well  as  for  the  completed 
work  of  justification,  then  of  Clirist's  fulness  shall  that 
man  receive,  and  "grace  for  grace."  Holding  the 
Head,  he  shall  have  nourishment  ministered  through 
the  joints  and  bands  of  the  appointed  means,  and  in- 
crease with  the  increase  of  God. 


CHAPTER    II. 

DO  ALL  FOE  GOD. 

^^  And  whatsoever  t/e  do,  do  it  heartily,  as  to  the  Lord,  and  not 
unto  tnetiJ" — Col.  iii.  23. 

The  practical  life  of  the  Christian,  upon  the  considera- 
tion of  which  we  enter  in  this  Chapter,  comprehends 
three  distinct  elements,  on  each  of  which  distinct  re- 
commendations are  needed,  working,  fighting,  and  suf- 
fering. We  have  to  do  the  will  of  God  in  our  business ; 
this  is  working.  Wo  have  to  oppose  our  bosom  sin 
and  to  resist  temptation ;  this  is  fighting.     We  have, 


196  Do  all  for  God.  [part 

finally,  to  endure  with  cheerfulness  and  submission 
whatever  cross  the  Lord  Jesus  pleases  to  lay  upon  us  ; 
this  is  suffering.  And  to  be  right  in  the  practical  de- 
partment of  the  Christian  life  is  summed  up  in  these 
three  things,  to  work  devoutly,  to  fight  manfully,  and 
to  suffer  patiently. 

Our  present  subject  is,  then,  how  we  may  work 
devoutly. 

When  we  remember  that  our  destiny,  as  immortal 
beings,  is  to  live  with  our  Lord,  and  with  glorified 
saints,  and  holy  angels  for  ever;  and  that,  in  con- 
sequence, any  work  which  does  not  fit  us  for  this 
society  must  be  a  great  impertinence,  and  counteract 
the  main  end  of  our  existence,  it  is  at  first  sight  a  very 
alarming  and  distressing  thought  that  the  great  bulk 
of  the  things  which  most  men  do  daily,  are  of  the 
earth,  earthy.  For  example,  how  many  pursuits  and 
professions,  in  a  commercial  country  like  this,  have 
reference  to  money, — that  is  to  say,  substituting  the 
Scripture  phraseology  for  our  common  parlance,  to 
"  the  gold  which  perisheth  "  and  to  the  "  Mammon  of 
unrighteousness  1"  But  is  it  not  true  of  all  pursuits, 
regular  and  irregular,  with  the  exception  only  of 
devotion,  that  they  are  of  the  earth,  earthy  1  Does  it 
not  hold  good  even  of  the  pastoral  work,  so  far  as  that 
work  has  reference  to  the  sin  and  ignorance  which  is  in 
fallen  man?  Must  not  every  existing  pursuit  be  in- 
compatible with  the  heavenly  state,  for  this  simple 
reason,  that  every  one  of  them  has  reference  to  an  im- 
perfect state  of  things,  largely  alloyed  with  sin,  igno- 
rance, and  sorrow  1  All  professions  and  trades  are  in 
fact  remedial,  destined  to  supply  the  defects  of  the 
existing  order ;  and  therefore,  when  that  existing  order 
is  no  more,  and  when  the  order  which  supersedes  it 


nr.l  Do  nU  for  God.  197 

j.n.vi.s  lu  iia>i  iio  vi^.v^i.^  V, i.ai^ , or,  and  excludes  all 
sin,  all  ignorance,  and  all  sorrow, — the  various  occupa- 
lions  of  this  life  must  necessarily  come  to  an  end,  must 
die  a  natural  death.  And  is  tliere'not  something  which 
seems  inappropriate,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  in  the  cir- 
cumstance that  one,  who  is  called  by  Baptism  to  the 
kingdom  and  glory  of  Almighty  God,  should,  during 
his  short  span  of  threescore  years  and  ten,  be  either 
preparing  for,  or  engaged  in,  work  which  has  no 
reference  to  or  bearing  upon  his  Eternity,  and  which 
will  bo  swept  away  for  ever,  like  so  much  litter,  when 
the  Kingdom  of  Christ  is  finally  and  for  ever  set  up  ? 

This  inconsistency  between  worldly  pursuits  and  a 
heavenly  calling  has  been  deeply  felt  at  all  times  by 
the  human  mind. 

It  was  just  this  feeling  which,  among  other  deep- 
seated  instincts  of  our  nature,  gave  rise  to  Monasticism. 
Iq  their  speculations  on  the  eternal  future,  men  as- 
sumed (what  certainly  we  have  no  right  to  assume,  and 
what  probably  is  false,  judging  from  what  we  hear  of 
the  angels)  that  there  will  be  in  the  heavenly  state  no 
occupation  save  that  of  Prayer  and  Praise.  Then, 
knowing  fVom  God*s  Word  that  the  life  of  Heaven 
ought  to  be  begun,  as  indeed  it  ought,  upon  earth, 
they  coucluded  that  the  religious  life  upon  earth  (the 
conventual  life  was  always  called  "  religious  ")  consisted 
in  a  constant  round  of  religious  services,  and  directly 
spiritual  employments.  Hymns,  and  prayers,  and  good 
reading,  and  deep  meditation  were  to  be  the  business 
of  the  day ;  and  all  else,  if  any  thmg  else  were  at- 
tempted, (as  it  often  was  in  the  way  of  almsgiving,  and 
writing  or  illuminating  manuscripts,)  was  to  be  a  by- 
work.  Let  us  not  rail  at  their  mistake.  It  is  by  no 
means  so  certain  that  we  stand  clear  of  it  ourselves. 


196  Bo  all  for  God.  [pakt 

Have  we  never  thrown  out  words  on  the  same  false 
assumption,  that  a  secular  pursuit  is  an  obstacle  to 
a  heavenly  mind  1  What  remark  is  more  commonly 
heard  in  conversation,  than  that  such  a  young  man, 
being  more  seriously  disposed  than  his  brothers,  is  the 
one  pointed  out  for  the  Church, — meaning  the  Mi- 
nistry ?  And  what  does  such  a  remark  imply  in  the, 
mmd  of  the  person  making  it,  but  this  very  feeling, 
that  nothing  but  a  sacred  occupation  sits  suitably  on  a 
person  who  contemplates  with  seriousness  the  end  for 
which  he  was  created  1  And  we  have  heard  the  feeling 
take  more  foolish  and  unguarded  shapes  than  this.  We 
have  heard  well-meant  addresses  at  Missionary  meet- 
ings, which, — from  the  undoubtedly  true  position  that 
the  work  of  a  Missionary,  as  being  nearest  to  that  of 
an  Apostlcj  is  the  highest  upon  earth, — really  almost 
infer,  or,  at  all  events,  leave  upon  the  minds  of  the 
hearers  the  impression,  that  every  one  should  abandon 
his  present  calling,  and  go  forth  to  preach  the  Kingdom 
of  God  in  the  dark  places  of  the  earth. 

As  the  pushing  a  false  theory  to  its  extreme  point 
is  one  way  of  exhibiting  its  fallacy,  let  us  for  a  moment 
suppose  it  to  be  God's  will  that  all  Christians  should 
have  a  directly  spiritual  pursuit.  The  system  of  society 
must  in  that  case  be  brought  to  a  dead  lock  ;  for  who 
knows  not  that  the  system  is  founded  upon  division  of 
labour ;  and  upon  the  very  simple  principle  that  one 
man  shall  produce  what  his  neighbour  wants,  and  take 
in  exchange  what  his  neighbour  produces?  The  fair 
fabric  of  civilization  is  all  built  upon  this  principle,  as 
its  fundamental  law.  Take  away  the  variety  of  voca- 
tions, reduce  all  callings  to  those  of  the  monk,  the 
priest,  or  the  missionary,  and  you  undermine  civiliza- 
tion, or,   in    other   words,  society  lapses    again   into 


ni.]  Do  ('od,  100 

barbarism.  And  this  assuredly  cannot  be  the  will  of 
Him,  who  has  implanted  in  the  human  mind  those 
instincts  which  dcvelopo  themselves  in  civilization. 
But  if  this  cannot  bo  the  will  of  God,  if  common 
sense,  without  calling  in  the  aid  of  Scripture,  repu- 
diates such  an  hypothesis,  then  it  must  be  His  will 
(for  there  is  no  alternative)  that  diflcrcnt  men  should 
follow  difTorent  pursuits,  according  to  the  station  in 
which  they  are  born,  the  gifts  they  possess,  the  cir- 
cumstances in  which  they  find  themselves.  Bring 
it  down  to  individual  cases,  and  the  truth  still  holds. 
It  is  still  the  will  of  God  that  this  man  should  ply 
a  humble  craft;  that  this  other  should  have  the 
duties  entailed  by  broad  acres  and  large  property ; 
that  a  third  should  go  to  the  desk,  and  sit  behind  a 
counter  all  his  days;  that  a  fourth  should  give  his  time 
to  the  restoration  of  sick  patients ;  that  a  fifth  should 
fight  the  battles  of  his  country.  Now  if  this  is  God's 
will  in  each  individual  case,  no  good,  but  the  greatest 
harm,  would  ensue  from  an  individual's  infringing 
that  will ;  from  his  thrusting  himself  out  of  his  own 
vocation  into  one  which  seems  to  be  higher  and  more 
dignified.  Each  man's  wisdom  and  happiness  must 
consist  in  doing,  as  well  as  his  faculties  will  admit,  the 
work  which  God  sets  him.  So  thought  and  so  wrote 
(both  thinking  and  writing  by  immediate  Inspiration) 
the  great  Apostle  of  the  Gentiles.  He  did  not  counsel 
his  converts  to  join  himself  and  St.  Barnabas  in  their 
missionary  tours ;  but  while  reminding  them  ever  and 
anon  that  the  great  system  of  Society  would  ere  long 
run  down  and  come  to  an  end, — ringing  ever  and  anon 
the  great  funeral  knell  of  the  world,  "  the  fashion  of  this 
world  passeth  away," — he  told  them  distinctly  and 
emphatically  that  so   long  as  the  system  still  worked 


200  Do  all  for  God,  [pari 

on,  each  one  was  to  retain  his  position  in  it.  "  Let 
every  man  abide  in  the  same  calling,  wherein  he  was 
called.  "  Brethren,  let  every  man,  wherein  he  is  called, 
therein  abide  with  God." 

Ah  !  "  with  God."  Those  words  wrap  up  the  secret 
of  which  we  are  in  search,  the  secret  by  which  we  may 
do  God  service  in  our  daily  business,  and  convert  the 
most  secular  occupation,  so  long  as  it  be  an  innocent 
one,  into  fine  gold  of  the  altar. 

How  then  may  we  abide  with  God  in  the  work  of 
our  calling  1  The  answer  (or  rather  that  portion  of  it, 
for  which  alone  we  can  find  space  in  this  Chapter)  is, 
by  throwing  into  the  work  an  holy  and  pure  intention* 

It  is  clear  that  intention  is  to  our  actions  what  the 
soul  is  to  the  body  ;  and  that,  just  as  it  is  the  soul  and 
not  the  body  which  makes  us  moral  agents,  so  it  is  the 
motive  or  intention,  with  which  a  thing  is  done,  which 
gives  to  the  action  a  moral  character.  To  kill  a  man 
in  wrath  or  malice  prepense,  is  murder ;  but  to  kill 
him  accidentally  by  an  action  which  w^e  could  not 
possibly  foresee  would  do  him  harm,  and  which  we 
meant  to  benefit  him  (as  where  one  might  administer 
poison  to  his  friend  by  mistake  for  medicine),  is  so  far 
from  being  murder,  that  it  is  no  sin  at  all.  Again,  a 
good  and  holy  work,  such  as  Prayer,  becomes  hypocrisy, 
if  done  in  a  false  Pharisaical  spirit,  to  have  praise  of 
men. 

This  point  then  being  admitted, — that  it  is  the  in- 
tention which  constitutes  an  action  good  or  bad, — we 
proceed  to  remark  that  the  great  bulk  of  work  done  in 
this  busy  bustling  life  is  not  done  with  any  intention 
whatever  of  complying  with  the  Will,  or  furthering  the 
Service  of  Almighty  God.  The  many  who  run  to  and 
fro  from  morning  to  evening  in  the  work  of  their  calling 


III.]  Do  all  for  God.  201 

think  nothing  of  subserving  Ilis  designs,  and  are  even 
unconscious,  in  many  coses,  of  the  place  which  they 
hold  in  His  system. 

The  intention  of  some  persons  in  their  work  is  sini- 
ply  to  gain  a  livelihood  by  it.  To  render  this  livelihood 
more  abundant  and  more  independent,  they  rise  up 
early,  late  take  rest,  and  eat  the  bread  of  carefulness. 
A  perfectly  innocent  motive ;  nay,  in  a  merely  moral 
and  social  point  of  view,  a  commendable  one,  but  not  a 
spiritual  motive,  such  as  glorifies  the  work  and  redeems 
it  from  carthliness. 

Others  in  a  higher  class  of  life,  labour  unremittingly 
with  the  view  of  winning  eminence  in  their  particular 
pursuit  or  profession.  The  effects  of  work  done  in  this 
spirit,  if  it  docs  not  meet  with  the  success  which  it 
seeks,  arc  very  sad  to  witness.  Tliat  elasticity  of  mind 
which  is  the  spring  and  nerve  of  duty,  is  gone  from  a 
disappointed  man.  lie  is  a  stranger  to  the  bright 
cheerfulness  of  mind  which  characterizes  the  Christian, 
who  knows  that  no  one  ever  sought  to  please  our 
Heavenly  blaster  without  succeeding  and  being  over- 
abundantly  recompensed. 

Others  work  merely  from  what  is  called  energy  of 
mind.  They  would  be  miserable  if  idle  ;  and  accord- 
ingly, wherever  they  are,  they  create  occupations  for 
themselves,  if  there  are  none  to  which  they  seem  es- 
pecially cfdled.  Indeed,  to  every  one  among  us  work  is 
in  a  greater  or  less  degree  a  necessity  of  nature.  But 
that  activity  which  results  from  a  mere  natural  instinct 
has,  of  course,  nothing  of  a  spiritual  character.  Per- 
haps Pascal  is  right,  though  his  thoughts  on  the  subject 
are  a  little  sombre  and  overstrained,  when  he  tells  us 
that  this  kind  of  activity  is  only  a  relief  from  the  con- 
templation of  self,  w  hich  we  are  afraid  to  be  alone  with. 


202  Bo  all  for  6fod.  [pAixi 

from  an  instinctive  feeling  of  discontent  with  it.  As  a 
debtor  shuns  looking  into  his  accounts,  so  we  shun  look- 
ing into  self,  and  for  the  same  reason.  Self  and  the 
accounts  are  both  unsatisfactory,  and  in  frightful  dis- 
order. 

Again  the  better  class  of  men,  in  whose  hearts  a 
supernatural  motive  has  not  yet  found  place,  work 
from  the  high  and  elevating  motive  of  duty.  This 
motive  exalts  the  character  to  the  very  highest  pitch 
to  which  a  mere  natural  character  can  attain.  \'  It  is 
my  work,"  says  the  man,  "  and  I  shall  not  shrink  from 
it,  however  much  of  danger  and  hardship  it  may  in- 
volve." It  is  a  fine  mind  which  so  speaks ;  perhaps 
we  may  admit  that  the  owner  of  such  a  mind  is  "  not 
far  from  the  kingdom  of  God ;"  but  if  the  intention 
have  no  reference  to  God's  appointment,  God's  Will 
and  Service,  truth  forbids  us  to  say  that  it  is  a  spiritual 
or  supernatural  mind.  Cicero  and  Seneca  might  have 
worked  from  a  sense  of  duty ;  but  Cicero  and  Seneca 
knew  nothing  of  the  living  and  loving  Lord,  who  ap- 
points labourers  to  various  parts  of  His  vineyard,  en- 
dows them  with  various  talents,  and  rewards  them 
according  to  their  diligence  in  improving  those  talents. 
God  must  enter  the  mind,  before  our  motives  can  be 
supernaturalized. 

Finally,  a  great  mass  of  human  activity  is  really  des- 
titute of  any  intention  at  all,  and  so  runs  to  waste  in 
a  spiritual  point  of  view.  Multitudes  of  men  work 
mechanically  and  by  the  same  instinct  of  routine  which 
causes  a  horse  to  go  round  in  a  mill.  They  throw 
themselves  into  their  pursuit  in  the  morning,  with 
about  as  much  reflection  and  thought  as  the  poor 
dumb  animal,  when  he  submits  himself  afresh  to  the 
harness,  and  thrusts  his  neck  once  again  into  the  well- 


ui.]  Do  all  for  God,  203 

known  collar.  But  man  is  surely  made  for  something 
nobler  than  to  work  by  mere  force  of  habit.  Look  at 
hm.  Wliat  powerful  and  stormy  aflfections,  what  lively 
intelligence,  what  strength  of  purpose  and  of  moral 
choice,  is  latent  in  that  human  heart  ?  God  did  not 
intend  that  creature  for  a  piece  of  clockwork,  to  run 
down  when  it  is  wound  up,  without  any  consciousness 
of  the  design  which  it  subserves,  lie  must  have  meant 
man  surely  to  act  with  foresight,  with  design,  with 
purpose,  with  intelligence,  with  affection,  even  as  Ho 
Himself  works ! 

Such,  then,  are  the  views  and  motives  with  which 
the  majority  pursue  their  vocations.  And  now  what  is 
the  true  motive,  the  supernatural  motive,  which  lifls  up 
the  humblest  duties  into  a  higher  atmosphere,  and 
refines  away  their  earthliness,  and  glorifies  them  ? 
"  Whatsoever  ye  do,  do  it  heartily,  as  to  the  Lord,  and 
not  unto  men ;  knowing  that  of  the  Lord  ye  shall 
receive  the  reward  of  the  inheritance  :  for  ye  serve  the 
Lord  Christ."  It  will  be  seen  by  consulting  the  con- 
text, that  this  precept,  and  the  corresponding  one  in 
the  Ephesians,  have  a  primary  reference  to  the  duties 
of  slaves.  Now  no  duty  can  be  imagined  lower  in  the 
social  scale  than  those  of  a  slave  in  a  heathen  family, — 
a  position  in  which  many  members  of  the  early 
Christian  community  found  themselves.  The  duties  of 
the  slave  were  bound  upon  him  by  the  most  galling 
necessity ;  if  he  neglected  or  evaded  them,  he  did  so  at 
the  risk  of  the  lash,  the  brand  and  the  treadmill ;  yet 
the  Apostle  intimates  that  even  these  duties  may  be 
ennobled  and  sanctified  by  importing  into  them  a 
Christian  intention.  Let  the  slave  look  behind  and 
beyond  his  earthly  master,  to  the  gracious  and  glorious 
form  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  who  stands  in  the  background; 


204  Do  all  for  God.  [part 

requiring  service  of  him.  Let  him  yield  that  service 
heartily,  as  to  the  Lord,  and  not  unto  men,  and  it  shall 
be  owned,  blessed,  accepted,  rewarded.  Now  we  can- 
not  but  think  that  there  is  a  deep  wisdom  in  this  parti- 
cular arrangement  of  the  Word  of  God,  by  which  a 
precept  so  universal  in  its  character  as  that  of  the  con- 
secration of  secular  duties  to  the  Lord,  is  connected  in 
the  first  instance  with  the  business  of  slaves.  The  a 
fortiori  inference  is  so  abundantly  evident  that,  if  the 
humble  drudgery  of  a  slave  admits  of  such  a  consecra- 
tion, much  more  does  any  nobler  form  of  hum'an  busi- 
ness. No  man  after  this  can  saj^,  "  My  duties  are  so 
very  common-place,  and  so  very  petty,  that  they  cannot 
have  a  religious  dignity  and  value ;  or  so  bound  upon 
me  by  necessity  that  there  can  be  no  spontaneity  in  ren- 
dering them."  Your  duty,  whatever  it  be,  is  at  least  as 
noble  intrinsically  as  that  of  the  bond  servants  of  anti- 
quity, whom  their  masters  regarded  merely  as  species 
of  live  stock.  And  therefore,  if  the  duties  of  those  bond- 
servants admitted  of  being  done  heartily,  as  to  the  Lord, 
much  more  do  yours.  Then  that  you  should  strive  so 
to  do  them,  is  our  first  practical  counsel  to  you  res- 
pecting your  work.  First,  before  you  go  forth  to  your 
daily  task,  establish  your  mind  thoroughly  in  the 
truth,  that  all  the  lawful  and  necessary  pursuits  of  the 
world  are  so  many  departments  of  God's  great  harvest- 
field,  in  which  He  has  called  Christians  to  go  forth  and 
labour  for  Him.  Let  us  regard  them  all  as,  at  least, 
if  nothing  more,  wheels  of  the  great  world-system, 
w^hose  revolutions  are  bringing  on  the  Second  Advent 
and  Kingdom  of  Christ.  Then,  imagining  yourself 
for  a  moment  under  no  worldly  obligation  to  pursue 
your  particular  calling,  undertake  it  with  the  deliberate 
and  conscious  intention  of  furthering  His  Work  and 


III.]  />v<  all  for  God,  -205 

Will.  Choose  it  w.v..  w»ur  wliolo  will,  as  the  path  in 
wiilch  IIo  woiiKl  have  you  to  follow  II im,  and  the  tiisk 
to  which  IIo  has  called  you.  Consecrate  it  to  Ilim  by 
a  few  moments  of  secret  prayer,  imploring  Ilim  to 
take  it  up  into  the  great  scheme  of  His  Service,  and  to 
make  it  all  humble,  weak,  and  sinfid  as  it  is,  instrument- 
al in  furthering  His  designs.  Then  put  your  hand  to 
it  bravely,  endeavouring  to  keep  before  the  mind  the 
aim  of  pleasing  Him  by  diligence  and  zeal.  Imagine 
Jesus  examining  your  work,  as  IIo  will  do  at  the  last 
day  ;  and  strive  that  there  may  be  no  flaw  in  it,  that  it 
may  be  thoroughly  well  executed  both  in  its  outer  man 
ner  and  inner  spirit. 

At   the  beginning   and  end  of  every  considerable 
action,  renew  the  holy  intention  of  the  morning. 

As  to  the  smaller  duties  of  life, — the  mint,  anise,  and 
cummin  of  God's  Worship,  there  should  be  an  honest 
attempt  to  bring  them  too  under  the  control  of  tho 
ruling  principle.  The  Scripture  exempts  nothing  from 
the  compass  of  God's  Service  :  "  Whether  therefore  ye 
eat  or  drink,  or  whatsoever  ye  do,  do  all  to  the  glory  of 
God."  "  Whatsoever  ye  do,  in  word  or  in  deed,  do  all 
in  the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus."  But  a  word  or  two 
of  caution  is  here  necessary  for  weak  and  scrupulous 
minds.  The  Scripture  shows  its  divine  perfection  by 
setting  up  an  ideal  standard  of  duty,  which  was  never 
yet  actually  reached  except  by  the  Lord  Jesus  Himself. 
God  speaks  in  tho  Scripture ;  and  God  must  require 
perfection,  cannot  require  any  thing  less  or  lower. 
Perfection,  therefore,  must  be  the  aim  of  all,  and  this 
in  small  things  as  well  as  great.  But  eschew,  as  being 
particularly  adverse  to  real  progress,  all  little  unworthy 
scrupulosity,  such  as  would  be  counted  absurd  by 
strong  common  sense.     If  you  are  conscious  in  the 


206  Do  all  for  God.  [part 

main  of  an  intention  to  serve  God  in  all  things,  small 
and  great,  put  foolish  scruples  and  questions  of  casuistry 
out  of  court  without  an  hearing.  God  will  have  the 
service  which  comes  of  a  sound  mind  and  a  joyous 
heart ;  and  nothing  more  impedes  and  impairs  soundness 
of  mind  and  joyousness  of  heart  than  petty  scruples. 
The  Devil  is  the  author  of  scruples,  both  in  the  mind 
of  the  hypocrite  and  of  the  Christian.  He  allows  them 
in  the  hypocrite,  as  the  one  thing  having  the  semblance 
of  religious  duty,  by  which  he  compounds  with  him  for 
laxity  and  licentiousness  in  the  weightier  matters'  of  the 
law.  He  originates  them  in  the  Christian,  as  being  a 
fertile  source  of  downheartedness,  timidity  and  despair. 
Now  the  best  way  to  resist  the  Devil  on  all  occasions  is 
to  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  him.  Let  us  make  sure  of  con- 
secrating to  God  by  prayer,  and  a  good  intention,  the 
more  considerable  duties  of  the  day.  Let  us  strive,  at 
all  periods,  whether  of  work  or  refreshment,  to  realize 
His  presence,  and  the  great  end  for  which  we  are,  or 
ought  to  be,  living.  We  shall  find  by  degrees  that  the 
main  business  of  the  day,  if  done  with  pure  intention, 
will  lead  the  smaller  duties  in  tow,  like  long-boats  fol- 
lowing in  the  wake  of  a  man-of-war. 

For  the  rest,  let  us  make  a  wise  and  holy  use  of  the 
efficacy  of  Christ's  Blood  and  Grace.  That  doctrine,  if 
rightly  and  deeply  received,  will  give  the  mind  a  spring 
of  elasticity,  of  indomitable  cheerfulness,  courage,  and 
hope.  Nothing  which  we  do  will  for  a  moment  bear 
the  scrutiny  of  Almighty  God  as  a  judge.  Be  it  so ; 
but  Our  Lord's  Work  will  endure  that  scrutiny,  and 
come  triumphant  out  of  the  ordeal ;  and  His  Work  is 
by  faith  ours,  as  entirely  as  if  we  were  the  doers  of  it. 
Our  own  efforts  after  sanctity  are  always  breaking  down 
and  giving  way  under  us.     True ;  but  in  Him  doth  all 


III.]  Do  all  in  God.  207 

fulness  dwell ;  and  out  of  that  fulness  will  wo  look  to 
receive  grace  for  grace,  so  that  more  and  more  visibly, 
if  only  our  wills  be  true  to  Ilim,  the  lineaments  of  His 
Hlcssod  Imago  may  be  reproduced  in  us  by  the  power 
of  His  Spirit. 


CHAPTER  III. 

ON  MAINTAINING  THE  CONSCIOUSNESS  OP  GOD'S  rEESENCB 
IN  TUE  WORKS  OP  OUB  CALLING. 

"  7%tf  Lord  appeared  to  Ahram^  and  said  unto  Atm,  I.amtlieal' 
mighty  Ood;  walk  be/ore  Me^  and  he  thou  perfect.'''' — Gen. 
xviL  1. 

In  a  certain  sense  wo  all  must  walk  before  God, 
whether  in  solitude  or  among  the  haunts  of  men. 
*•  He  is  about  our  path,  and  about  our  bed,  and  spieth 
out  all  our  ways."  But  it  is  open  to  us  to  realize  His 
Presence,  or  to  dismiss  it  from  our  minds.  And  it  is 
the  first  of  these  courses  which  God  counsels  Abraham 
to  adopt  when  He  says,  **  Walk  before  Me,  and  be  thou 
perfect."  The  words  seem  to  imply  that  the  realiza- 
tion of  the  Divine  Presence  in  all  things  is  the  great 
secret  of  perfection ;  that  is,  of  course,  of  such  perfec- 
tion (most  imperfect  at  best)  as  man  can  by  grace  at- 
tain unto.  Animal  and  vegetable  life  both  form  round 
2t  nucleus,  or  centre,  which  is  at  first  a  mere  point  or 
speck  undiscemible  except  by  the  microscope,  but 
which  contains  in  it  the  germ  of  the  animal  or  plant 
which  is  to  be  formed  by  expansion  from  it.  And  in 
some  eminent  servants  of  God  the  spiritual  life  has  all 
formed  itself  from  this  one  centre,  developed  itself  from 


208  Bo  all  in  God,  [pari 

this  one   nucleus,  the  realization  of  the  Presence   of 
God. 

We  are  still  engaged  upon  the  question  how  the 
work  of  our  calling  may  be  done  devoutly.  The  first 
part  of  the  answer  was  given  in  the  last  chapter  :  "  Do 
all  for  God."  The  second  part  remains  to  be  given : 
"Do  all  in  God"  by  habitual  mindfulness  of  His 
Presence. 

It  is  an  easy  thing  to  see  and  to  say  that  men  should 
be  mindful  of  God's  Presence  while  engaged  in  their 
daily  work.  But  it  is  not  so  easy  to  see  how,  with 
any  of  the  higher  forms  of  work,  such  advice  can  really 
be  put  in  practice.  The  consideration  of  this  point  will 
serve  to  bring  out  in  sharper  relief  the  meaning  of  the 
precept. 

The  counsel,  then,  to  be  mindful  of  God's  Presence 
in  the  midst  of  our  daily  secular  occupations,  might 
seem  to  be  quite  practicable  for  those  who  have  to  work 
merely  with  their  hands.  It  might  seem  as  if  the 
peasant  who  turns  up  the  soil  with  his  spade,  the  lace- 
woman  who  plies  her  bobbins  with  busy  finger,  the  boy 
set  in  the  fields  to  scare  the  birds  from  the  crops,  could 
have  no  difficulty  in  turning  the  mind  to  the  Presence 
of  Almighty  God,  inasmuch  as  with  them  the  mind  has 
no  other  engagement.  But  all  work  which  is  not  purely 
mechanical  (and  even  the  pursuits  I  have  named  can 
scarcely  be  called  mechanical  altogether),  all  work 
which  involves  attention, — much  more  all  work  which 
involves  thought,  seems  to  preclude  the  realization  of 
the  Divine  Presence  at  the  moment  of  its  being  done. 
For  the  human  mind  is  so  constituted  that  it  cannot  be 
given  to  two  subjects  simultaneously,  any  more  than 
the  eye  can  be  fixed  upon  two  objects  simultaneously, 
Where  men  are  said  to  have  the  gift  of  attending  tc 


m.J  Do  all  in  Ood,  209 

two  matters  a.   ,  this  is  only  a  figure  of  speech, 

indicating  the  power  of  rapid  transition  from  one 
matter  to  another.  It  would  seem  then  that,  while  en- 
gaged in  any  work  which  asks  for  an  exercise  of  mind, 
— reading,  or  writing,  or  computing,  or  conversing,  as 
the  case  may  be, — men  cannot  think  of  God's  Presence, 
and  that  therefore  it  would  be  unreal  to  exhort  them  to 
do  so. 

Before  answering  this  objection,  let  me  call  attention 
(and,  as  we  are  giving  counsels  upon  work,  it  will  not 
be  wandering  from  the  point  to  do  so)  to  the  element 
of  truth  and  reason  which  there  is  in  it.  It  is  a  moral 
lesson,  which  quite  deserves  the  rank  of  a  spiritual 
counsel,  that  undivided  attention  to  one  thing  at  a  time 
is  necessary  to  do  any  work  well.  Such  attention  is  at 
once  a  duty  to  the  work,  and  a  duty  to  the  mind  engag- 
ed in  the  work.  Exclude  for  the  time  all  thought  of 
other  matters,  as  carefully  as  if  they  did  not  exist.  If 
other  business  presses,  there  is  no  help  for  it, — it  must 
wait  till  the  first  is  transacted.  Where  persons  are 
heavily  engaged,  there  is  a  certain  feverish  fidgetiness 
to  take  up  several  tasks  at  once,  which  greatly  inter- 
feres with  quietness  and  thoughtful ness  of  mind,  and 
so  with  progress.  Let  the  aim  of  such  persons  be  to 
do  the  thing  well,  rather  than  to  get  tlurough  it  fast. 
A  saint  of  old  inculcated  this  precept  very  well,  though 
very  quaintly,  when  he  said  that  "  Christians  often 
need  to  be  reminded  that  with  only  one  pair  of  hands 
they  cannot  thread  two  needles  at  the  same  time." 
And  a  wiser  man  than  he,  speaking  as  the  organ  of  the 
Spirit  of  God,  said,  "  Whatsoever  thy  hand  findeth  to 
do,  do  it  with  thy  might." 

But  in  answer  to  the  objection  respecting  the  Im- 
possibility of  realizing  the  Divine  Presence,  while  en- 


210  Do  all  in  God.  [pari 

gaged  in  any  work  which  calls  for  mental  effort,  it  is 
to  be  observed  that  what  we  recommend,  and  what  is 
surely  attainable  is,  the  mere  consciousness  that  God's 
eye  is  upon  us. 

That  this  consciousness  need  not  interfere  with  the 
most  active  exercise  of  the  powers  of  the  mind,  is  clear 
from  the  following  consideration : — 

A  man's  mind  is  never  more  actively  engaged  than 
when  he  is  making  an  extempore  address.  Under  such 
circumstances  he  must  think,  remember,  judge,  imagine, 
institute  comparisons,  all  within  the  space*  of  time  ' 
allotted  to  his  speech;  and  all  not  in  -  a  disjointed, 
aimless  way,  but  with  the  view  of  proving  one  point 
and  persuading  to  one  conclusion :  thought,  memory, 
judgment,  imagination,  comparison,  must  all  be  gath- 
ered (if  the  speech  is  to  be  an  effective  one)  like  so 
many  rays  of  the  sun  into  one  burning-glass,  and  made 
to  concentrate  their  forces  on  a  single  point.  Probably 
there  is  no  exercise  in  the  world  which  so  calls  out  the 
whole  mind  simultaneously  as  that  of  extempore 
speech. 

Yet,  what  speaker  for  a  moment  forgets,  or  can 
forget  that  the  eyes  of  his  audience  are  upon  him  1 
It  is  just  their  intense  consciousness  of  the  human 
presence,  of  its  reality,  and  of  the  impossibility  of  es- 
caping from  it,  that  makes  the  speaking  with  many 
able  men  so  difficult  a  thing.  They  might  express 
themselves  fluently  enough  in  solitude,  but  in  public 
their  consciousness  of  the  human  presence  is  too  much 
for  the  mind,  paralyzes  it  for  the  time  being.  He  w^ho 
proposes  to  become  a  speaker  must  acc[uire  the  habit 
of  so  holding  under  this  consciousness,  as  that  free  play 
may  be  allowed  to  the  exercise  of  the  mind.  Of 
holding  it  under,  I  say, — for  it  is  impossible  that  any 


III.]  Do  all  in  God*  211 

speaker  should  ever  entirely  suppress  it.  So  far  from 
suppressing  it,  most  men,  when  speaking,  arc  unusually 
sensitive  of  impressions  from  the  upturned  countenances 
which  are  fixed  upon  them.  Tlio  feelings  of  the  audi- 
.  ncc  communicate  themselves  to  the  mind  of  the  person 
addressing  them  by  a  curious,  almost  electric,  sym- 
pathy :  if  their  features  evince  interest,  he  takes  heart 
and  goes  on  swimmingly  ;  if  their  attention  flags,  ho  is 
discouraged ;  if  they  seem  perplexed,  ho  feels  that  ho 
must  somewhat  expand  his  matter,  and  explain  himself ; 
if  they  are  very  animated,  and  have  fairly  embarked 
with  him  on  the  full  current  of  his  argument,  he 
feels  that  ho  is  master  of  their  minds,  and  can  sway 
them  to  and  fro,  as  the  wind  sways  the  trees  of 
(lie  wood.  But  any  how,  consciousness  of  their  pre- 
sence forms,  if  I  may  so  say,  the  very  groundwork  of 
his  mind. 

.  It  is  abundantly  clear,  then,  that  consciousness  of  a 
presence  need  not  interfere  with  the  most  active  opera- 
tions of  mind.  And  if  consciousness  of  the  presence 
of  man  need  not  do  so,  why  need  consciousnes  of  the 
Presence  of  God  ?  All  that  the  precept,  "  Walk  be- 
fore me,  and  be  thou  perfect, "  implies  is,  that  we 
should  acquire  and  maintain  such  a  consciousness. 
I  Jut  how  is  this  done?  Our  senses  give  us  assurance 
of  the  human  presence,  and  the  senses  are  in  all  of  us 
sufficiently  keen  and  alive.  But  how  shall  we  obtain 
an  habitual  assurance  of  a  truth  whereof  our  senses 
give  us  no  notice  whatever  1 — how  shall  we  walk  before 
God,  as  seeing  Him  who  is  invisible?  In  the  same 
way  by  which  all  other  results  in  the  spiritual  life  are 
obtained, — by  trustful,  expectant,  sanguine  prayer,  and 
effort.  It  is  obvious  that  this  very  grace— mindfulness 
or  consciousness  of  God's  Presence — may  be  made  the 


212  Do  all  in  God.  [pakI 

subject  of  special  Prayer,  an  answer  to  which,  as  in  the 
case  of  every  spiritual  blessing  which  we  petition  for 
should  be  looked  for  with  confidence,  on  the  ground  of 
God's  promise  to  prayer.  But  then  there  is,  besides 
this,  the  doing  what  in  us  lies  to  attain  the  end.  And 
what  in  us  lies  is  this, — to  call  the  attention  definitely 
to  God's  Presence,  as  occasion  offers,  at  the  necessary 
breaks  or  periods  in  our  work,  and  the  occasional 
mingling  with  the  act  of  recollection  two  or  three 
words  of  secret  prayer  which  may  suggest  themselves 
on  the  moment;  such  as,  "Thou,  God,  seest  me," — 
"  Have  I  also  here  looked  after  Ilim  that  seeth  me  ?" 
— "Thou  art  about  my  path  "  (in  the  daytime),  "and 
about  my  bed  "  (in  the  silent  watches  of  the  night). 

The  conception  of  God's  Presence  will  take  different 
shapes  in  different  minds.  We  may  regard  Him  as 
locally  present  every  where,  the  veil  of  matter  screen- 
ing Him  from  our  view,  just  as  a  king  might  really  be 
moving  up  and  down  in  the  midst  of  a  company  of 
blind  persons ;  or  we  may  regard  Him  as  having  a 
certain  intimate  connexion  with  our  own  minds,  as 
upholding  momentarily  in  us  the  powers  of  life  and 
thought,  according  to  that  word  of  St.  Paul's,  "  In  him 
we  live,  and  move,  and  have  our  being ; "  or,  lastly,  we 
may  think  of  Our  Lord  in  human  form  looking  down 
upon  our  probation  from  the  Heavenly  Throne,  just  as 
He  appeared  at  the  martyrdom  of  St.  Stephen.  All 
other  modes  of  viewing  the  subject  resolve  themselves 
into  the  primary  ones,  in  which,  as  you  will  see,  there 
is  a  reference  to  the  three  Persons  of  the  Blessed 
Trinity.  Even  the  most  earnest  work  would  not  be 
materially  impeded,  and  certainly  it  would  be  done  in  a 
brighter  and  happier,  as  well  as  a  holier  state  of  mind, 
if  these  little  efforts  of  attention  were  made  during  its 


III.]  DoallUOod,  213 

l'ri)gross.  And  it  will  bo  found  in  course  of  time,  tlmt 
tho  constant  recurrence  of  the  thoughts  to  God  will 
pass  into  an  instinctive  consciousness  of  His  Presence 
and  that  the  mind  will  acquire  a  tendency  to  gravitate 
towards  Him  at  all  times,  which  will  operate  easily  and 
naturally  as  soon  as  it  is  relieved  of  the  strain  which 
worldly  aflairs  put  upon  it.  An  excellent  writer  on 
devotion,  whom  we  have  quoted  previously,  speaking  on 
the  topic  of  secular  affairs,  and  showing  how  tliey  must 
be  despatched  with  earnestness,  and  yet  without  soli- 
citude, says, — "  Do  as  little  children  do,  who  with  one 
hand  hold  fast  by  their  father,  and  with  the  other 
gather  hips  and  haws  or  blackberries  along  the  hedges ; 
so  you,  gathering  and  managing  with  one  hand  the 
things  of  this  world,  must  with  the  other  always  hold 
fast  the  hand  of  your  Heavenly  Father,  turning  your- 
self  towards  Him  from  time  to  time,  to  see  if  your 
actions  or  occupations  be  pleasing  to  Him  ;  but  above 
all  things  take  heed  that  you  never  let  go  His  protecting 
hand,  thinking  to  gather  more;  for  should  He  forsake 
you,  you  will  not  bo  able  to  go  a  step  without  falling 
to  the  ground.  My  meaning  is,  that  amidst  those  or- 
dinary affairs  which  require  not  so  earnest  an  attention', 
you  shall  look  more  on  God  thJn  on  them  ;  and  when 
they  are  of  such  importance  as  to  require  your  whole 
attention,  that  then  also  you  should  look  from  time  to 
time  towards  God,  like  mariners  of  the  olden  time, 
who,  to  arrive  at  the  port  to  which  they  were  bound, 
looked  more  up  towards  heaven  than  down  on  the  sea 
on  which  they  sailed :  thus  will  God  work  with  you,  in 
you  and  for  you ;  and  all  your  labours  shall  be  accom- 
panied with  consolations.'* 

In   cultivating  the  consciousness   of   the    Divine 
Prc^^cncc,  we  shall  find  it  useful  to  catch  at  every  help 


214  Do  allin  God.  [part 

which  our  circumstances  afford.  Let  us  just  glance  at 
some  of  these  circumstances,  and  at  the  account  to 
which  they  may  be  turned. 

It  is  not  hard  to  see  how  a  rural  walk,  even  through 
the  plainest  country,  may  suggest  devout  musings.  As 
we  mark  the  sprouting  leaf,  or  blossoming  flower,  we 
may  call  to  mind  that  God  is  silently,  but  powerfully 
putting  forth  His  activities  in  our  immediate  neighbour- 
hood ;  as  we  brush  by  the  hedge,  and  make  the  little 
bird  dart  up  from  it  in  the  palpitation  of  sudden  fear, 
we  are  on  the  field  of  his  operations.  \Vhy,  when 
standing  u^on  such  ground,  are  we  impressed  so  slightly 
with  awe  of  His  power  and  His  skill  ?  Mechanism  of 
human  contrivance  generally  strikes  awe  into  the  mind 
of  the  unsophisticated  beholder.  In  the  great  bell- 
tower  or  clock-tower  of  a  cathedral,  where  the  huge 
rafters,  which  form  the  case  of  the  machinery,  cross 
each  other  above  our  heads  and  under  our  feet,  or  in 
the  engine-house  of  some  great  manufactory,  where 
cranks  and  pistons  sough,  and  wheels  whirr  on  all  sides 
of  us,  and  we  are  warned  that,  if  part  of  the  machinery 
paught  our  dress,  we  should  be  drawn  in  and  crushed 
to  pieces  by  one  revolution  of  the  engine,  with  as  little 
power  to  resist  as  the  mouse  who  is  under  the  paw  of 
the  lion;  in  such  places  a  nervous  shuddering  thrills 
through  the  frame,  and  the  consciousness  of  so  tremen- 
dous a  force  so  near  at  hand  is  apt  to  shake  and  dismay 
the  mind.  How  is  it  that  we  feel  little  or  no  awe  when 
in  the  neighborhood  of  a  Power,  whose  operations  are 
irresistible, — a  Power  who  holds  our  breath  in  His 
hand,  and  by  closing  His  hand  upon  it  at  any  moment 
might  stop  instantaneously  that  palpitation  of  the 
heart,  and  that  circulation  of  the  blood,  which  we  call 
by  the  mysterious  name  "  Life  V      It  is  partly  because 


luj  Do  all  in  Qod.  216 

God  works  so  silently,  without  any  display  of  Ilia 
machinery, — because  the  peep  of  the  dawn,  and  the 
opening  of  the  blossom  are  done  by  the  evolution  of 
gentle,  but  most  effectual,  influence ;  God  eschewing 
ill  his  operations  that  horrid  clank  and  whirr,  which 
announces  itself  as  powerful,  and  terrifies  by  the  an- 
nouncement,— partly  also  because,  almost  unconscious- 
ly to  ourselves,  wo  entertain  a  secret  disbelief  in  the  Om- 
nipresence of  a  personal  God  ;  and  cover  Him  up  from 
our  own  regards  in  an  abstraction  meaningless,  power- 
less, passionless,  dcvotionlcss,  to  which  we  give  the 
chilling  name  of  "  Nature." 

But  doo^  the  walk  through  the  streets  of  the 
crowded  city  suggest  no  thoughts  of  God's  nearness  ? 
Arc  not  the  activities  of  His  Providence  busy  with 
every  one  of  the  individuals  whose  path  intersects  ours  1 
If  we  could  know  the  life  of  each  of  them,  is  there  not 
a  providential  drama,  which  is  working  itself  out  in 
their  fortunes,  gradually  developing  its  catastrophe  in 
the  subordinate  incidents  of  their  career  ?  And  amidst 
all  the  many  counsels,  schemes,  and  devices,  which  each 
of  them  is  forming,  and  in  virtue  of  which  they  seem 
to  bo  the  ultimate  masters  of  their  o\vn  destiny,  is 
there  not  a  Power  behind  the  scenes,  *'  directing  theii 
steps," — "  a  Divinity  that  shapes  their  ends,  rough  hew 
them  how  they  will  1 "  Is  it  not  a  solemn  thing  to  be 
in  the  immediate  neighbourhood  of  a  Power,  which  is 
unrolling  inch  by  inch  the  ground-plan  of  many  hu- 
man lives  ? 

But  another  reflection  may  usefully  come  to  our  aid 
in  our  eflT^rts  to  realize  the  Presence  of  God  amid  the 
throng  and  hum  of  men.  The  Incarnation  of  the  Son 
of  God,  and  His  covenanted  Presence  among  the  two 
or  three  gathered  togethoi-  in  His  Name,  lead  us  to 


216  Do  alliii  God.  [pakt 

connect  the  thought  of  God  with  human  society  in  a 
manner,  which  before  the  Incarnation  would  have  been 
impossible.  The  abstract  God  we  associate  in  our 
minds  with  the  lone  places  of  nature;  we  hear  His 
whisper  in  the  breeze  which  stirs  the  leaves  of  the  se- 
questered glen,  His  louder  utterance  in  the  thunder, 
the  avalanche,  and  the  wild  wind  which  churns  the 
ocean  into  fury.  But  the  Eternal  Wisdom  of  God, 
Who  for  our  sakes  became  incarnate,  describes  Him- 
self as  "  rejoicing  in  the  habitable  part  of  the  earth, 
and  having  his  delights  among  the  sons  of  men.''  Christ 
walked  up  and  down  in  the  midst  of  us,*trode  our 
streets,  sat  by  our  hearths,  ministered  at  the  sick  beds 
of  men,  was  the  invited  Guest  at  their  marriages,  and 
the  great  Comforter  at  their  funerals,  to  teach  this 
among  other  lessons,  that  w^e  may  find  the  footprints 
of  our  God,  if  we  will  only  look  for  them,  in  human 
society.  The  human  face  with  all  its  power  of  expres- 
siveness, both  in  sorrow  and  in  joy,  is  a  sort  of  sacra- 
ment of  His  Presence  ;  and  a  true  faith  will  enable  us 
to  pierce  the  veil,  under  which  He  conceals  Himself 
from  the  bodily  eye,  and  to  find  Him  still  mixed  up 
with  the  interests  and  concerns  of  men,  forbearing,  for- 
giving, warning,  counselling,  comforting.  The  peculiar 
value  of  this  last  reflection  lies  in  the  fact  that,  for  rea- 
sons connected  with  the  constitution  of  the  mind,  it  is 
far  more  easy  to  realize  the  Presence  of  God  in  soli- 
tude than  in  company.  There  is  something  in  us  which 
immediately  responds  to  the  words  of  Christ,  when  He 
counsels  privacy  for  the  purpose  of  devotion,  "  Thou, 
when  thou  pray  est,  enter  into  thy  closet,  and  when 
thou  hast  shut  thy  door,  pray  to  thy  Father  which  is 
in  secret."  An  instinct,  deeply  implanted  in  our  spiri- 
tual nature,  assures  us  that  we  must  shut  out  the  world, 


III.]  Do  all  in  God,  217 

if  we  would  realize  the  Divine  Presence.    And  this  is 
eminently  true  as  far  as  our  hearts  are  concerned.     To 
disencumber  them  of  earthly  cares,  earthly  interested 
and  the  debasing,  corroding  influence  of  worldly  afiairs, 
is  an  absolutely  essential  condition  of  our  drawing  nigh 
to  God.     But  tlie  mere  company  of  others  need  not  be 
a  hindrance^  nay,  may  be  rather  a  help  to  this  detach- 
ment, if  we  learn  to  connect  society  with  the  thought 
of  Christ,  and  Christ  with  the  thought  of  society.     If 
He  condescended   to  join  Himself  to   human  life,  to 
take  an  experimental  interest  in  every  stage  and  in 
every  phase  of  it,  is  not  that  sufficient  to  sanctify  its 
every  stage  and  phase  ?     If  Ho  was  essentially  a  man 
of  the  city,  and  not,  like  His  forerunner,  a  man  of  the 
wilderness,  may  not  men  of  the  city  hope  to  find  His 
f«)0tprintsby  the  side  of  their  daily  life,  and  take  occa- 
sion even  from  that  life,  to  think  of  Hira  much,  and 
thus  spiritualizo  their  earthly  citizenship  ?     Few  stars 
in  the  firmament  of  the  Church  shine  brighter  than  that 
of  St.  Matthew,  one  of  the  twelve  Apostles,  and  the 
Evangelist  of  what  may  be  called  the  mother  Gospel. 
And  what  was  St.  Matthew  originally  ?     A  man  con- 
versant not  with  rural,  but  with  city  life, — not  with 
contemplation,  but  with  business.     Not  an  unsophisti- 
cated fisherman,  like  the  rest  of  his  colleagues,  but  a 
collector  of  taxes  for  the  Roman  Government,  one  who 
sat  daily  at  the  receipt  of  custom,  driving  a  trade  essen- 
tially secular.     Yet  God  Incarnate  crossed  his  path, 
and  singled  him  out  of  the  throng  as  one  who  should 
draw  many  souls,  minted  anew  with  the  image  and  su- 
perscription of  the  Heavenly  King,  into  the  treasury 
of  God,  and  sat  at  meat  in  his  house  in  company  with 
many  publicans  and  sinners,  and  set  him  upon  one  of 
the  twelve  thrones,  which  Apostles  shall  visibly  occupy 
10 


218  Of  Interruptions  in  OUT  Worlc^  [pae.t 

in  the  regeneration  of  all  things,  and  placed  around  his 
brow,  as  a  coronet,  the  Pentecostal  tongue  of  fire.  It 
is  a  great  lesson  that,  if  only  our  hearts  are  right  and 
true,  we  may  find  Christ, — or  rather  may  be  found  of 
Him, — in  the  traffic  of  secular  affairs.  May  we  so 
learn  this  lesson,  as  to  know  it,  not  in  theory  only,  but 
by  experience  ! 

"  There  are  in  this  loud  stunning  tide 
Of  human  care  and  crime, 
With  whom  the  melodies  abide 

Of  the  everlasting  chime ; 
Who  carry  music  in  their  heart, 
Through  dusky  lane  and  wrangling  mart ; 
Plying  their  daily  task  with  busier  feet. 
Because  their  secret  souls  a  holy  strain  repeat." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

OF  INTEREUPTIONS  IN  CUE  WOEK,  AND  THE  WAY  TO  DEAt 
WITH  THEM. 

"  We  are  created  in  Christ  Jesus  unto  good  works,  which  God 
hath  before  ordained  that  we  should  walk  in  them.'*'* — Epii. 
ii.  10. 

We  have  spoken  in  the  two  foregoing  Chapters  of  the 
work  which  God  has  allotted  to  us,  and  of  the  spirit 
which  must  be  thrown  into  it,  if  we  would  convert  it 
into  a  sacrifice.  He  who  tries  to  infuse  this  spirit  into 
his  daily  work  will  do  it  earnestly.  He  will  throw  all 
his  powers  of  heart  and  soul  into  it ;  and  whereas  before 
much  of  his  duty  has  been  done  mechanically,  his  nobler 
faculties  will  now  be  called  into  exercise  in  the  doing  of 


III.]  atid  the  way  to  deal  with  them,  210 

it.  It  will  all  bo  done  thoughtfully  and  seriously,  and 
mixed  with  prayer,  the  highest  effort  of  which  the  mind 
is  capable. 

And  the  very  earnestness  with  which  the  work  is 
now  done  may  bring  with  it  a  snare.  When  the  mind 
is  intently  bent  upon  one  action,  and  that  action  is  felt 
to  be  a  serious  one,  it  is  greatly  embarrassed  and  annoy- 
ed by  interruptions.  Other  things  making  a  claim  upon 
the  attention,  distract  and  harass  us.  Of  course  it  is 
not  so  with  the  man  who  hangs  about  upon  life  with 
no  serious  pursuit.  Interruptions  are  to  him  a  pleasing 
variety  ;  nor  can  ho  at  all  appreciate  the  trial  of  which 
we  spe4\k.  But  in  proportion  to  the  seriousness  with 
which  the  Christian  docs  his  work  will  be,  if  I  may  so 
say,  his  sensitiveness  to  interruptions.  And  as  this 
sensitiveness  is  very  apt  to  disturb  his  peace,  (and  in 
doing  so  to  retard  his  progress,)  we  will  in  this  Chapter 
show  the  manner  in  which  interruptions  should  be  met, 
and  the  spirit  with  which  they  should  be  encountered. 

The  great  remedy,  then,  for  the  sensitiveness  to 
which  I  have  alluded,  is  a  closer  study  of  the  mind  that 
was  in  Christ,  as  that  mind  transpires  in  His  record«?d 
conduct.  The  point  in  the  life  of  our  Lord  to  which 
I  wish  to  call  attention,  is  tho  apparent  want  of  what 
may  be  called  method  or  plan  in  His  life, — I  mean 
method  or  plan  of  His  own  devising, — the  fact  that  His 
good  works  were  not  in  pursuance  of  some  scheme  laid 
down  by  Himself,  but  such  as  entered  into  God's  scheme 
for  Him,  such  as  the  Father  had  prepared  for  Him  to 
walk  in. 

I.  And,  first,  notice  His  discourses,  both  in  their 
occasions,  and  in  their  contexture. 

(1)  They  most  often  take  their  rise  from  some  object 
which  is  thrown  across  His  path  in  nature,  from  some 


220  Of  Interruptions  in  our  Work,  [part 

occurrence  Avhich  takes  place  under  His  eyes,  or  from 
some  question  which  is  put  to  Him.  For  the  wonderful 
discourse  in  John  vi.  upon  the  Living  Bread,  we  are 
entirely  indebted  to  the  circumstance  that  after  the 
miracle  of  the  loaves  the  carnal  multitude  sought  Him, 
in  anxiety  to  have  their  natural  wants  once  again  satis- 
fied by  miracle.  It  was  not  that  Jesus  had  previously 
prepared  for  them  such  a  discourse ;  but  this  was  the 
discourse  which  their  conduct  drew  from  Him. — He 
meets  a  Samaritan  woman  at  Jacob's  well,  and  op- 
pressed with  the  noontide  heat,  asks  her  for  water  from 
her  bucket.  Her  answer  leads  on  to  a  close  dealing 
with  the  woman's  conscience,  and  to  the  announcement 
of  certain  great  truths  respecting  that  living  Water, 
whereof  whosoever  drinketh  shall  never  thirst.  But 
here  again  the  words  rise  spontaneously  from  the  occa- 
sion.— The  murmurs  of  the  Pharisees  and  Scribes,  be- 
cause Jesus  received  sinners  and  ate  with  them,  elicited 
for  our  everlasting  consolation  the  noble  parables  of  the 
lost  sheep,  the  lost  coin,  and  the  prodigal  son. — An  ob- 
servation falling  from  a  guest  at  table,  a  mere  devout 
sentiment  casually  dropped  in  His  hearing,  "Blessed 
is  he  that  shall  eat  bread  in  the  kingdom  of  God,"  drew 
from  His  lips  the  parable  of  the  great  Supper. — A  cer- 
tain man  asked  Him  to  undertake  an  arbitration  between 
himself  and  his  brother  as  to  their  respective  shares  of 
their  hereditary  property.  This  suggested  to  our  Lord 
the  topic  of  covetousness,  and  the  parable  of  the  rich 
fool,  illustrative  of  that  topic. 

All  the  above  are  instances  in  which  Scripture  itself 
explicitly  traces  the  connexion  between  certain  occasions 
and  the  discourses  of  Our  Lord.  And  divines  have 
recognized  many  others,  where  the  connexion,  though 
not  expressed,  is  not  obscurely  implied. 


III.]  and  the  way  to  deal  with  them. 


Jl 


(2)  But  a  similar  remark  holds  good  respecting  the 
contexture  of  these  wonderful  discourses.  Jesus  spake 
OS  "never  man  spake,"  as  never  wise  man  after  the 
flesh  had  any  idea  of  speaking.  For  Our  Lord's  great 
discourses  ore  not  constructed  upon  any  such  method 
or  plan,  as  the  human  intellect  recognizes.  Pascal 
somewhcro  remarks  that  there  are  two  orders  of  dis- 
course,—-one  which  ho  calls  the  order  of  the  intellect, 
the  other  the  order  of  love.  The  order  of  the  intellect 
is  to  have  an  exordium,  a  series  of  arguments  bearing 
on  the  matter  in  hand,  a  series  of  illustrations,  and  what 
is  called  a  peroration  or  close.  This  order  docs  not  ad- 
mit of  divergences  or  digressions  ;  any  interruptions  of 
the  plan  are  to  the  mere  intellect  impertinences,  and  the 
pruning-knife  of  a  merely  intellectual  critic  would  cut 
them  unsparingly  away.  The  order  of  love,  on  the 
other  hand,  says  this  truly  spiritual  writer,  is  to  have  a 
heart  so  penetrated  with  the  subject,  as  to  be  impatient 
of  the  restraints  of  intellectual  method,  and  to  burst 
away  in  pursuit  of  favourite  topics,  as  the  mind  within 
suggests.  This,  says  he,  is  the  only  order  observed  in 
the.  writings  of  St.  Augustine  and  St.  Paul,  and  in  the 
discourses  of  their  Divine  Master,  Jesus  Christ.  And 
the  remark  is  pre-eminently  true.  Take  the  Sermon  on 
the  Mount,  and  try  to  analyse  it.  You  will  find  that 
it  defies  methodical  analysis.  "While  no  head  of  Giris- 
tian  precept  is  left  untouched,  there  is  no  such  sys- 
tematic arrangement  as  we  can  easily  put  upon  paper. 
There  was  no  doubt  an  undercurrent  of  thought  in  the 
mind  of  the  Divine  Preacher,  welding  together  the 
different  sections  of  the  great  Sermon,  and  leading  Ilim 
on  fluently  from  topic  to  topic ;  but  nothing  can  less 
wear  the  aspect  of  a  discourse  framed  upon  a  dry  pre. 
conceived  plan.  Doubtless  it  was  as  the  swallow  caught 


222  Of  Interruptions  in  our  Work,  [rAiii 

His  eye,  skimming  along  to  its  nest  with  food  for  its 
young,  and  as  the  lily  or  blue-bell  of  Palestine  waved 
before  Him  on  the  hill-side,  that  He  took  occasion  to 
illustrate  His  precepts  against  worldly  carefulness  by 
tliose  wonderful  sections,  beginning,  "  Behold  the  fowls 
of  the  air,"  "  Consider  the  lilies  of  the  field."  This  is 
the  only  plan  observable  in  the  discourse, — the  plan  of 
a  loving  heart  pouring  itself  out,  as  occasion  serves,  for 
the  edification  of  mankind. 

II.  But  the  absence  of  mere  human  plan,  or  rather 
strict  faithfulness  to  the  plan  of  God,  as  hourly  devel- 
oped by  the  movements  of  His  Providence,  charac- 
terized the  life  of  our  Lord  even  more  than  His  dis- 
courses. His  object  throughout  is  not  to  carry  out 
schemes  preconceived  by  Himself,  but  to  study  God's 
guidings,  and  to  be  true  to  God's  occasions  and  God's 
inspirations.  Take  only  that  portion  of  His  life  re- 
corded in  a  single  chapter, — the  ninth  of  St.  Matthew. 
Jesus  is  interrupted  in  the  midst  of  a  discourse  which 
He  was  holding  in  the  house,  by  the  appearance  of  a 
couch  with  a  palsied  man  upon  it,  lowered  into  the 
midst  of  the  court  under  His  eyes.  So  far  from  ac- 
counting the  interruption  unseasonable.  He  first  ab- 
solves, and  then  heals  the  patient,  and  thus  secures 
glory  to  God  from  the  multitude.  The  miracle 
performed.  He  passes  out  into  the  open  air,  perhaps 
for  refreshment,  and  His  eye  catches  Matthew  sit- 
ting at  the  receipt  of  custom.  He  calls  him,  and 
Matthew  follows.  Matthew  invites  our  Lord  to  a 
meal,  and  our  Lord  accepts  the  invitation  ;  sits  down 
with  publicans  and  sinners,  and  profits  by  the  occasion 
to  speak  of  the  freeness  of  His  Grace. — In  connex- 
ion probably  with  His  appearance  at  a  festival,  tho 
disciples  of  John  ask  Him  why  His  disciples  did  not 


III.]  and  the  way  to  deal  with  them,  223 

fast  He  explains  why. — Jairus  comes  to  solicit  His 
merciful  intcrforcnco  in  behalf  of  a  dying  daughter. 
Jesus  follows  him  forthwith  to  his  house,  when,  lo  and 
behold,  another  interruption,  which  to  the  feelings  of 
Jairus,  all. impatient  to  have  the  great  Healer  under 
his  roof,  must  have  been  extremely  galling.  The  wo- 
man with  an  issue  of  blood  steals  a  cure  from  Him  on 
the  road.  Jesus  stops  to  draw  from  her  an  acknow- 
ledgment of  the  benefit,  and  to  dismiss  her  with  a  word 
of  consolation  and  blessing.  Then  Ho  resumes  His 
former  errand  of  love,  arrives  at  Jairus'  house,  and 
raises  the  dead  maiden. — Coming  out,  probably  on  His 
return  to  His  own  abode,  the  blind  men  follow  Him 
into  the  house,  and  receive  their  cure. — ^They  have 
scarcely  gone  out,  when  the  man  possessed  with  a 
dumb  devil  is  brought  to  Him,  and  restored ;  and  thus 
ends  the  detailed  portion  of  the  chapter,  what  follows 
being  a  general  and  summary  survey. 

This  is  a  good  specimen  of  Our  Lord's  whole  way 
of  life,  and  of  how  He  went  about  doing  good,  not  on 
a  rigid,  unbending,  preconcerted  plan,  but  as  the  Father, 
ill  the  course  of  His  Providence,  ministered  to  Him  the 
occasion. 

Now,. as  God  ordained  beforehand  certain  good 
works  in  which  the  Son  of  His  Love  was  to  walk,  so 
He  deals  with  each  follower  of  His  Son,  according  to 
the  humble  capacity  of  that  follower,  on  a  similar  prin- 
ciple. Christian,  whoever  you  are,  whatever  your 
sphere,  whatever  your  gifts,  whatever  your  station,  God 
has  a  plan  of  life  for  you.  More  than  this.  He  has  a 
plan  of  useful  life  for  you,  a  plan  of  doing  good, — cer- 
tain occasions  and  opportunities  of  doing  good  all  map- 
pod  out  for  you  in  His  eternal  counsels.  These  occa- 
sions and  opportunities  arc  to  arise  day  by  day  upon 


224  Of  Interruptions  in  our  Work,  [paei 

you,  as  you  pursue  your  beaten  path  of  life,  j  ust  as 
while  the  globe  turns  round  upon  its  axis,  the  sun  in 
course  of  time  rises  upon  those  parts  of  it  which  before 
were  dark.  Now  this,  perhaps,  is  a  novel  view  to  some 
of  my  readers.  They  are  accustomed  to  think  of  the 
place  which  Our  Lord  has  prepared  for  His  followers, 
— of  the  joys  which  God  has  prepared  for  those  who 
unfeignedly  love  Him  ; — but  they  think  comparatively 
little  of  the  sphere  of  good  works,  which  is  just  as 
much  prepared  for  them  to  occupy  here  as  is  the  sphere 
of  glory  hereafter.  Yet  this  is  a  certain  and*  infallible 
truth.  If  God  have  before  ordained  certain  persons  to 
eternal  life,  He  hath  also  before  ordained  good  works 
for  those  individuals  to  walk  in. 

Reader,  are  you  a  firm  believer  in  the  Providence 
of  God?  because  the  whole  doctrine  which  we  are 
setting  forth  is  really  wrapped  up  in  God's  Pro- 
vidence. Do  you  believe  that  the  whole  of  your 
affairs — trivial  as  well  as  great,  irregular  as  well  as  in 
the  ordinary  course — are  under  His  absolute,  daily, 
hourly  supervision  and  control  1  that  nothing  can 
possibly  arise  to  you  or  any  other,  which  is  not  foreseen 
by  Him,  arranged  for  by  Him,  brought  by  Him  within 
the  circle  of  His  great  plan  %  that  the  little,  incidents 
of  each  day,  as  well  as  the  solemn  crises  of  life,  are 
His  ordering?  Then  you  virtually  concede  all  that 
the  Apostle  asserts  in  this  verse.  For  you  admit  that 
the  occurrences  of  each  day,  however  unlooked  for, 
however  contrary  to  expectation,  are  God-sent,  and 
those  which  affect  you  sent  specially  and  with  discrim- 
ination to  yourself. 

Now  it  cannot  be  thought  that  God  sends  events  to 
a  living  soul,  in  order  that  the  soul  may  be  simply 
passive  under  the  events.     If  God  sends  you  an  event. 


lu.]  and  the  way  to  deal  with  them,  225 

it  must  havo  a  meaning ;  it  must  bo  a  sign  to  you  that 
you  are  to  do  something,  to  brace  yourself  up  to  some 
action  or  to  some  state  of  feeling.  All  that  God  sends 
to  a  human  spirit  must  be  significant.  God  has  sent 
us  His  Word.  We  know  that  He  designs  us  not  simply 
to  hear  it,  but  to  embrace  it  with  a  living  faith  and  a 
loving  obedience.  We  are  to  meditate  upon  it,  to  ap- 
ply it  to  our  consciences,  mould  our  character  and  con- 
duct in  conformity  to  it.  Now  the  same  God  who  has 
sent  us  His  Word  equally  sends  us  the  daily  occur- 
rences of  life,  the  chief  difference  being  that,  whereas 
the  Word  has  a  general  voice  for  all,  in  which  each  is 
to  find  his  own  case  represented,  the  occurrences  arc 
charged  with  a  more  specific  message  to  individuals. 
Now  there  is  many  a  man  who  says,  "  I  will  conform 
myself  to  the  general  indications  of  God's  Will  made 
to  me  by  His  Word  ; "  comparatively  few  who  say, 
"  I  will  conform  myself  to  the  special  indications  of 
God's  Will  made  to  me  by  His  Providence."  But  why 
so  few  ?  Does  not  God  come  home  to  us  more  closely, 
more  searchingly,  more  personally  by  His  Providence 
than  even  by  His  Word  ?  Does  not  His  finger  rest 
upon  each  of  us  more  particularly  in  the  government 
ofaflairs  than  even  in  Revelation  ?  And  why  are  we 
to  imagine,  as  many  seem  to  imagine,  that  no  other 
events  but  such  as  are  afflictive  and  calamitous  have  a 
voice  for  us?  Why  not  every  event?  Why  is  not 
the  ordinary  intercourse  of  life  to  be  regarded  as  fiir- 
nishing  in  God's  design  and  intention  opportunities  of 
either  doing  or  receiving  good  ?  I  say  of  doing  or  re- 
ceiving good.  Surely  either  one  or  the  other  is  a  thing 
greatly  to  be  coveted.  In  nine  cases  out  of  ten  wo 
may  fail  of  doing  good  ;  but  if  in  those  cases  we  have 
received  good,  and  received  it  too  in  the  course  of  His 


226  Of  InterriqHions  in  our  Work,  [pakt 

plan  for  us,  and  in  the  way  of  His  Providence,  surely 
the  occurrence  which  has  called  us  off  from  our  ordinary 
pursuit  is  not  to  be  regretted. 

Here,  then,  lies  the  real  remedy  for  the  uneasiness 
of  mind  which  is  caused  by  interruptions.  View  them 
as  part  of  God's  loving  and  wise  plan  for  your  day,  and 
try  to  make  out  His  meaning  in  sending  them.  When 
in  your  hour  of  morning  devotion  you  distribute  your 
time  beforehand  (as  it  is  in  every  way  wise  and  proper 
to  do),  let  it  always  be  with  the  proviso  that  the  said 
arrangement  shall  be  subject  to  modifications  by  God's 
plan  for  you,  as  that  plan  shall  unfold  itself  hour  by 
hour  to  your  apprehensions.  When  you  have  entered 
upon  the  day,  observe  narrowly  the  quarter  in  which 
His  finger  points,  and  be  true  to  that  direction.  There 
lies  thy  prepared  task.  There  are  the  good  works,  not 
which  thou  hast  devised,  but  which  God  hath  before  or- 
dained that  thou  shouldst  walk  in  them.  Break  not 
away  for  an  instant  from  the  guidance  of  His  Provi- 
dence ;  for  remember  that  thou  art  a  child  walking 
among  pitfalls  and  stumbling-blocks,  and  no  sooner 
shalt  thou  release  thy  grasp  than  thou  shalt  be  broken, 
and  snared,  and  taken.  A  case  of  distress  is  flung  in 
your  way  as  you  are  bound  upon  your  daily  occupa- 
tions. The  spirit  of  the  age  says,  "  Dismiss  it, — you 
have  no  time  to  spare, — leave  it  to  the  alms-house  or 
to  the  Society  for  the  relief  of  the  poor,  and  pass  on." 
Or  it  is  suggested,  in  the  midst  of  your  avocations,  that 
there  is  some  word  of  sympathy  to  be  said  or  to 
be  written  to  a  friend  in  trouble, — only  a  cup  of  cold 
water  in  point  of  intrinsic  value,  but  still  a  very  re- 
freshing one  to  a  man  in  the  furnace  of  affliction. 
"  But  you  are  too  much  occupied,"  says  the  busy, 
bustling,  hard  spirit  of  the  age ;  "  you  have  no  time 


III.]  and  the  way  to  deal  with  than,  227 

for  sympathies  or  sentimentalities ;  you  must  go  for- 
ward; if  you  desire  to  bo  successful  in  life,  you  aumot 
afford  to  stop  on  the  way."  Now  without  denying  that 
in  particular  cases  such  counsel  may  admit  of  palliation 
in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  Truth  qompels  us  to  say 
tiiat  this  was  not  the  mind  which  was  in  Christ  Jesus. 
His  car  was  never  inaccessible  to  human  suflcring,  and 
His  mind  was  never  unobservant  of  God's  plans.  He 
does  not  pass  over  the  woman  with  the  issue  of  blood, 
He  does  not  leAve  her  without  her  lesson  and  without 
her  consolation,  because  He  is  bound  on  an  errand  of 
love  to  the  house  of  Jairus.  He  does  not  make  oc- 
casions bend  to  Him  ;  but,  knowing  that  occasions  are 
the  Father's  call,  He  addresses  Himself  to  serve  occa- 
sions. He  is  constantly  (according  to  the  advice  which 
He  Himself  inspired  His  Apostle  to  give  us)  ^'re- 
deeming the  opportunity J^ 

But  supposing  that  during  the  day  no  opportunity 
occurs  of  doing  good.  Supposing,  for  example,  thaC 
the  case  of  distress  into  which  we  have  patiently  ex- 
amined turns  out,  as  it  very  frequently  will,  to  be  a 
gross  imposture, — have  we  therefore  lost  our  labour  in 
a  spiritual  point  of  view  ?  Not  surely,  if  we  have  con- 
formed our  will  to  God's  design  for  us.  There  is  no 
interruption  in  the  world,  however  futile  and  apparently 
perverse,  which  we  may  not  address  ourselves  to  meet 
with  a  spirit  of  patience  and  condescension  borrowed 
from  our  Master  ;  and  to  have  made  a  step  in  advance 
in  conforming  to  the  mind  of  Christ  will  be  quite  as 
great  a  gain  (probably  a  far  greater)  than  if  we  had 
been  engaged  in  our  pursuit.  For,  after  all,  we  may 
be  too  intent  upon  our  business,  ^  rather  intent  in  a 
wrong  way.  The  radical  fault  of  our  nature,  be  it 
remember  3d,  is  Self-will;   and  we  little  suspect  how 


228  Of  Interruptions  in  our  Work,  [part 

largely  Self-will  and  Self-pleasing  may  be  at  the  bottom 
of  plans  and  pm*suits,  which  still  have  God's  glory  and 
the  furtherance  of  His  Service  for  their  professed  end. 

Eeader,  the  path  which  we  have  indicated  is  the 
path  not  of  sanctity  only,  but  of  peace  also.  We  shall 
never  serve  God  with  a  quiet  mind,  unless  we  more  or 
less  tread  in  this  path.  It  is  a  miserable  thing  to  be 
the  sport  and  prey  of  interruptions  ;  it  wastes  the 
energies  of  the  human  spirit,  and  excites  fretfulness, 
and  so  leads  us  into  temptation,  as  it  is  written,  "  Fret 
not  thyself;  else  shalt  thou  be  moved  to  do  evil." 
But  suppose  the  mind  to  be  well  grounded  in  the  truth 
that  God's  foresight  and  fore-arrangement  embraces  all 
which  seems  to  us  an  interruption, — that  in  this  inter- 
ruption lies  awaiting  us  a  good  work  in  which  it  is 
part  of  His  Eternal  counsel  that  we  should  walk,  or 
a  good  frame  of  mind  which  He  wishes  us  to  cultivate ; 
then  we  are  forearmed  against  surprises  and  contra- 
dictions ;  we  have  found  an  alchemy  which  converts 
each  unforeseen  and  untoward  occurrence  into  gold ; 
and  the  balm  of  peace  distils  upon  our  heart,  even 
though  we  be  disappointed  of  the  end  which  we  had 
proposed  to  ourselves.  For  which  is  better,  safer, 
sweeter, — to  walk  in  the  works  which  God  hath  before 
ordained,  or  to  walk  in  the  way  of  our  own  hearts  and 
in  the  sight  of  our  eyes  1 

Ah,  reader  !  let  us  seek  to  grasp  the  true  notion  of 
Providence ;  for  in  it  there  is  peace  and  deep  repose  of 
soul.  Life  has  often  been  compared  to  a  Drama.  Now 
in  a  good  drama  there  is  one  plot,  variously  evolved  by 
incidents  of  different  kinds,  which  until  the  last  act 
present  entanglemojit  and  confusion.  Vice  has  its 
temporary  triumphs,  virtue  its  temporary  depressions. 
What  of  that  ?     You  know  it  will  come  right  in  the 


tiT.]  and  the  way  to  deal  with  them,  220 

end.  You  know  there  is  an  organiaing  mind  which 
unfolds  the  story  and  that  the  poet  will  certainly  bring 
the  whole  to  a  climax  by  the  ultimate  vindication  of 
righteousness  and  the  doing  of  poetical  justice  upon 
malefactors.  To  this  end  every  shifting  of  the  scene, 
©very  movement  of  the  actors,  every  by-plot  and  under- 
plot is  made  to  contribute.  Wheel  within  wheel  is 
working  together  towards  this  result.  Well,  Life  is 
God's  great  Drama.  It  was  thought  out  and  composed 
in  the  Etemal  mind  before  the  mountains  were  brought 
forth,  or  ever  the  earth  and  the  world  were  made.  In 
time  God  made  a  theatre  for  it,  called  the  Earth  ;  and 
now  the  great  Drama  is  being  acted  thereon.  It 
is  on  a  gigantic  scale,  this  Drama.  The  scenes  are 
shifting  every  hour.  One  set  of  characters  drops  off 
the  stage,  and  new  ones  come  on,  to  play  much  the 
same  part  as  the  first,  only  in  new  dresses.  There 
seem  to  be  entanglements,  perplexities,  interruptions, 
confusions,  contradictions  without  end ;  but  you  may 
be  sure  there  is  one  ruling  thought,  one  master-design, 
to  which  all  these  are  subordinate.  Every  incident, 
every  character,  however  apparently  adverse,  contrib- 
utes to  work  out  that  ruling  thought.  Think  you 
that  the  Divine  Dramatist  will  leave  any  thing  out  of 
the  scope  of  his  plot  1  Nay,  the  circumference  of  that 
plot  embraces  within  its  vast  sweep  every  incident 
which  Time  ever  brought  to  birth. 

Tliou  knowest  that  the  mind  which  organized  this 
Drama  is  Wisdom.  Thou  knowest  more :  thou  knowest 
that  it  is  Love!  Then  of  its  ending  grandly,  wisely, 
nobly,  lovingly,  infinitely  well  for  them  who  love  God, 
there  can  be  no  doubt.  But  remember  you  are  an 
actor  in  it ;  not  a  puppet  worked  by  wires,  but  an 
actor.     It  is  yours  to  study  the  plot  as  it  unfolds  itselfj 


230  Fight  wisely.  [paei 

to  throw  yourself  into  it  intelligently,  warmly,  zeal- 
ously. Be  sure  to  learn  your  part  well,  and  to  recite 
it  manfully.  Be  not  clamorous  for  another  or  more 
dignified  character  than  that  which  is  allotted  you, — 
be  it  your  sole  aim  to  conspire  with  the  Author,  and  to 
subserve  His  grand  and  wise  conception. 

Thus  shall  you  cease  from  your  own  wisdom.  Thus 
shall  you  find  peace  in  submitting  yourself  to  the 
wisdom  which  is  of  God.  And  thus,  finally,  shall  He 
pronounce  you  a  good  and  faithful  servant,  and  summon 
you  to  enter  into  the  joy  of  your  Lord. 


CHAPTER    V. 

FIGHT  WISELY. 
"  Sofght  /,  not  as  one  tJiat  heateth  the  aer."— 1  CoR.  ix.  26. 

The  three  elements  which  enter  into  the  composition 
of  the  Spiritual  Life,  are  Acting,  Fighting,  and  Suffer- 
ing. Of  the  first  of  these  we  have  spoken  ;  and  now, 
from  the  consideration  of  the  Christian  in  his  duties,  we 
pass  to  the  consideration  of  him  in  his  temptations,  or, 
in  other  words,  we  proceed  to  consider  lum  as  fighting. 
Two  of  the  main  sources  whence  temptations  arise  are 
the  Devil  and  the  flesh  ;  or,  in  other  words,  our  great 
spiritual  adversary,  and  the  traitorous  correspondence 
which  he  meets  with  from  the  heart  of  man.  Now  the 
heart  being,  according  to  the  sure  testimony  of  God's 
Word,  deceitful  above  all  things,  and  Satan's  method'' 
of  operation,  too,  being  by  stratagem  rather  than  open 
violence,  the  first  method,  therefore,  of  meeting 
temptation  aright  must  be  to  meet  it  wisely.     Policy 


lU.]  Fight  wisely,  23 1 

must  bo  opposed  by  policy  according  to  tho  warning  of 
tlio  Holy  AposUo:  "Lest  Satan  sliould  get  an  advan- 
uigo  over  us ;  for  wo  arc  not  ignorant  of  his  devices,** 

How  then  shall  we  fight  wisely  ?  This  is  our  qucs- 
tion  in  tho  present  Chapter, 

Now  to  fight  wisely  is  not  to  fight  at  a  venture,  but 
with  a  definite  aim.  "  So  fight  I,"  says  the  Apostlo, 
**  not  as  one  that  beateth  the  air."  In  which  words  he 
is  drawing  an  image  from  the  boxing-match  in  tho 
Isthmian  games,  and  declares  that  in  the  spiritual  com- 
bat, he  does  not  wear  out  his  strength  by  vain  flour- 
ishes of  his  hands  in  tho  air,  but  plants  each  blow  cer- 
tainly and  with  a  telling  aim  {ovrtu  ttuktcuo)  ws  ovk  dipa 
Sipwv). 

We  read  indeed  that  King  Ahab  was  shot  by  an 
arrow  sent  at  a  venture,  that  is,  without  deliberate  aim  : 
but  this  is  told  us  to  magnify  the  Providence  of 
Almighty  God,  who  in  His  designs  of  wrath,  can  direct 
the  aimless  shaft  whithersoever  it  pleases  Him ;  not 
surely  to  teach  us  that  aimless  shafts  are  likely  on  com- 
mon occasions  to  be  successful.  Yet  what  is  the  warfare 
of  many  earnest  and  well-intentioned  Christians  but  the 
sending  of  shafts  at  a  venture  ?  They  have  a  certain 
notion  that  they  must  resist  the  evil  within  and  without 
them  ;  but  then  this  evil  presents  itself  in  so  many 
forms,  that  they  arc  bewildered  and  confounded,  and 
know  not  where  to  begin.  And  so  it  often  comes  to 
pass  that  their  time  and  labour  is  thrown  away  in  re- 
pressing symptoms,  where  they  should  bo  applying 
their  whole  energy  to  the  seat  of  the  disorder. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  first  work  of  the  politic 
spiritual  warrior  will  be  to  discover  his  besetting  sin,  or 
sins,  and  having  discovered  it,  to  concentrate  all  hia 
disposable  force  before  this  fortress. 


232  Fight  wisely.  [pari 

Just  as  each  individual  has  a  certain  personal  con 
figuration,  distinguishing  him  from  all  other  men  at- 
first  sight ;  just  as  his  hair  has  a  certain  colour,  his 
limbs  a  certain  make,  his  features  a  certain  cast ;  or 
just  as  each  of  us  is  said  to  be  born  into  the  world 
with  some  one  defective  organ,  be  it  heart,  liver,  or 
lungs  ;  so  in  the  moral  constitution  of  each  individual 
there  is  some  sin  or  sins,  which  more  than  others  is 
comformable  to  his  temperament,  and  therefore  more 
easily  developed  by  his  circumstances, — which  expresses 
for  more  of  his  character  than  others.  This -bosom  sin 
has  eminently  the  attribute  which  the  Apostle  ascribes 
to  all  sin  ;  it  is  eminently  deceitful.  Its  especial  pro- 
perty is  to  lurk :  sometimes  it  puts  on  the  mask  of  a 
a  virtue  or  a  grace,  not  unfrequently  that  of  some  other 
sin  ;  but  masked  somehow  or  other  it  loves  to  be,  and 
the  longer  Satan  can  keep  it  masked,  the  better  it 
serves  his  purpose. 

Let  us  give  some  examples  of  a  bosom  sin  thus 
masking  itself.  With  a  very  large  proportion  of  man- 
kind, the  besetting  sin  is  vanity.  Who  knows  not 
how  this  detestable  sin  frequently  apes  humility,  so  as 
really  to  impress  its  possessor  with  the  notion  that  he 
is  humble?  Intensely  self-satisfied  in  his  heart  of 
hearts,  he  depreciates  himself,  his  talents,  his  successes, 
his  efforts  in  conversation.  What  follows  ?  A  natural 
reaction  of  public  sentiment  in  his  favour.  Men  say 
to  him,  as  in  the  Parable,  *'  Go  up  higher."  He  has 
been  fishing  for  compliments,  and  compliments  have 
risen  to  the  hook.  Is  it  not  so  ?  For  would  he  not 
have  bitterly  resented  it  in  the  inner  man,  had  any  of 
the  company  taken  him  at  his  word,  and  coolly 
answered  to  his  self-depreciation,  "  What  you  say  about 
the  inferiority  of  your  talents,  and  the  paucity  of  your 


III.]  Fight  wisely,  233 

successes,  is  no  doubt  perfectly  truol"  True  the 
words  may  have  been ;  but  ho  did  not  say  them 
because  they  were  true,  but  because  his  lust  of  com- 
mendation craved  some  smooth  word  which  might 
pamper  it.  Here  is  the  bosom-adder  of  vanity  coiled 
up  in  the  violct-tufl  of  humility.  To  take  another 
case.  It  is  part  of  some  men*s  character,  as  their 
friends  would  phrase  it  for  them,  that  they  cannot  bear 
to  be  second.  Whatever  they  do  must  be  done  (I  do 
not  say  commcndably  well,  for  all  things  that  are 
worth  doing  ought  to  be  done  commendably  well),  but 
superlatively  well,  brilliantly,  so  as  to  throw  into  the 
shade  all  competitors.  Accordingly,  they  are  disposed 
to  decline  or  abandon  all  pursuits  in  which  they  feci 
that  they  can  never  excel.  Now  what  is  this  feeling, 
when  we  bring  it  into  the  court  of  conscience,  and 
com©  to  examine  and  scrutinize  its  ground  1  The 
world  dignifies  it  with  the  name  of  honourable  emula- 
tion, and  accepts  it  as  a  token  of  a  fine  character. 
And  thus  much  is  true,  and  may  not  be  denied,  that 
there  is  usually  some  stuff  in  the  characters,  whose 
leading  principle  is  such  as  I  have  described.  In  that 
singular  way  in  which  one  principle  hangs  together 
with  another,  like  bees  clustering  on  a  flower,  or  limpets 
on  a  weedy  rock,  this  emulation  as  it  is  called,  is 
somehow  connected  and  intertwined  with  that  energy 
and  resolve  which  are  the  raw  material  from  which 
earthly  greatness  is  manufactured.  But,  judged  by  the 
mind  of  our  Lord  Jesus,  which  is  the  one  standard  of 
saintliness,  how  does  the  sentiment  sound,  "  Because  I 
cannot  be  brilliant,  so  as  to  outshine  all  rivals,  therefore 
I  will  be  nothing?"  It  jars  strangely,  I  think,  with 
the  music  of  those  words,  "The  kings  of  the  Gentiles 
exercise  lordship  over  them :  and  they  that  exercise 


234  Fight  wisely,  [pari 

authority  upon  them  are  called  benefactors.  But  ye 
shall  not  be  so  :  but  he  that  is  greatest  among  you,  let 
him  be  as  the  younger,  and  he  that  is  chief  as  he  that 
doth  serve."  And  again  with  those  :  "  Let  nothing  be 
done  through  strife  or  vain  glory  ;  but  in  lowliness  of 
mind  let  each  esteem  other  better  than  himself."  And 
again  with  that  touching  expression  of  our  Lord's 
humility,  prophetically  foreseen  and  predicted  by  the 
Psalmist,  long  years  before  His  coming  in  the  flesh : 
"  Lord,  I  am  not  high-minded ;  I  have  no  proud  looks. 
I  do  not  exercise  myself  in  great  matters  which  are  too 
high  for  me ;  but  I  refrain  my  soul  and  keep  it  low, 
like  as  a  child  that  is  weaned  from  his  mother ;  yea, 
my  soul  is  even  as  a  weaned  child."  Alas  !  when  we 
apply  to  this  feeling  the  Ithuriel  spear  of  God's  Word 
and  Christ's  Example,  we  find  it  to  be  the  bosom-adder 
of  vanity  again,  lurking  under  the  marigold  of  honour- 
able emulation. 

Again ;  a  bosom  sin,  that  it  may  be  the  more  easily 
escape  detection  and  eradication,  will  wear  to  a  super- 
ficial observer  the  mask  of  another  sin.  Indolence,  for 
example,  is  a  sin  which  carries  with  it  in  its  train  many 
omissions  of  duty,  and  specially  of  religious  duty. 
Prayer  or  Scripture  reading  is  omitted  or  thrust  away 
into  a  corner,  and  gone  through  perfunctorily,  because 
we  have  not  risen  sufficiently  early  to  give  room  for  it. 
Things  go  cross  during  the  day  in  consequence  ;  irrita- 
bility of  temper  not  soothed  by  God's  Blessing,  or 
calmed  by  His  Presence,  throws  our  affairs  into  a 
tangle.  We  trace  it  all  up  to  the  omission  of  Prayer, 
of  which  we  accuse  ourselves.  But  the  fault  lies 
deeper.  It  was  not  really  an  indisposition  to  Prayer 
which  kept  us  from  it.  It  was  indolence  which  really 
caused  the  mischief. 


III.]  Fight  wisely,  285 

One  of  the  first  properties,  then,  of  tho  bosom  sin 
with  which  it  behoves  us  to  bo  well  acquainted,  as  tho 
first  step  in  the  management  of  our  spiritual  warfare, 
is  its  property  of  concealing  itself.  In  consequence  of 
this  property,  it  often  happens  that  a  man,  when 
touched  upon  his  weak  point,  answers  that  whatever 
other  faults  he  may  have,  this  fault  at  least  is  no  part 
of  his  character.  This  circumstance,  then,  may  furnish 
one  clue  to  tho  discovery ;  of  whatever  fault  you  feel 
that,  if  accused  of  it,  you  would  bo  stung  and  nettled 
by  the  apparent  injustice  of  tho  charge,  suspect  your- 
self of  that  fault, — in  that  quarter  very  probably  lies 
the  black  spot  of  the  bosom  sin.  If  the  skin  is  in  any 
part  sensitive  to  pressure,  there  is  probably  mischief 
below  the  surface.' 

What  has  been  said,  however,  requires  a  littlo 
modification.  In  very  strong  characters,  where  the 
bias  of  the  will  is  very  decided,  tho  ruling  passion  can 
hardly  help  disclosing  itself  to  its  possessor  and  to 
those  around  him.  Sensuality,  for  example,  and  an 
insatiable  ambition  proclaim  themselves  aloud  in  tho 
ears  of  the  conscience,  and  this  is  St.  Paul's  meaning 
when  he  says,  "  Some  men's  sins  are  open  beforehand, 
going,  before  to  judgment."  But  the  far  more  usual 
case  is  that  described  in  the  words  which  follow,  *'  And 
some  men  they  follow  after."  Their  sins,  their  weak 
points,  do  not  transpire  till  after  a  long  and  familiar 
acquaintance  with  them ;  they  are  subtle  and  evasive, 
and  sometimes  intertwined  with  the  fibres  of  what  is 
good  in  them. 

It  is  to  aid  in  bringing  to  light  these  secret  sins  that 
we  make  the  following  suggestions. 

First,  then,  praying  heartily  for  tho  light  of  God's 


236  Fight  wisely,  [pari 

Spirit  to  know  thine  own  heart,  observe  and  reason 
upon  the  results  of  Self-examination.  When  this  most 
salutary  exercise  has  been  pursued  for  a  certain  time, 
you  will  observe  that  the  same  failures  are  constantly 
recurring,  just  as  in  Prayer  the  same  wants  daily  re- 
cur ;  so  that  though  the  words  of  our  prayers  may  be 
a  little  varied,  (and  it  is  more  free  and  pleasant  to  vary 
them  a  little,)  the  things  that  we  pray  for  arc  always 
substantially  the  same.  The  conclusion  is  almost  in- 
evitable that  there  is  something  serious  beneath  these 
constantly  recurring  failures.  What  is  it  ?  .  In  what 
one  direction  do  all  the  phenomena  point  ?  To  selfish- 
ness ?  or  to  indolence  1  or  to  vanity  ?  or  to  want  of  sin- 
cerity and  simplicity  of  character  ?  or  to  the  fear  of 
man  and  human  respect"?  or  to  discontent  ?  or  to  world- 
ly anxiety  ?  Eemember  always,  that  in  the  symptom, 
and  on  the  surface,  it  may  look  like  none  of  these  sins, 
and  yet  be  really  and  fundamentally  one  of  them.  Say 
often  while  engaged  in  the  search,  "  Blessed  Spirit,  it  is 
Thy  office  to  convince  of  sin.  Help  me  to  seek  the 
ground  of  my  heart,  and  to  drag  into  the  light  of  day 
my  hidden  corruptions,  for  Jesus  Christ's  sake;  "  and 
your  search,  if  conducted  in  this  method  and  spirit,  will 
not  lonir  be  fruitless. 

Another  plan  may  just  be  mentioned  as  helpful  in 
the  discovery  of  our  bosom  sin.  Let  us  have  our  eye 
upon  the  occurrences  which  specially  give  us  pain  or 
pleasure  :  they  will  often  be  veriest  trifles, — an  expres- 
sion of  opinion,  or  sneer,  a  mere  passing  breath  of  hu- 
man praise  or  censure,  which  goeth  away,  and  cometh 
not  again ;  but  yet,  be  it  what  it  may,  if  it  touches  us 
to  the  quick,  the  probabilities  are,  that  by  tracing  it  to 
its  source  we  shall  get  to  the  quick  of  our  character,  to 
that  sensitive  quarter  of  it  where  the  bosom-adder  lies 


III.]  Fight  wisely,  -'.T 

coiled  up.  Whence  those  tears  of  vexation  1  whenoQ 
that  pang  of  annoyance  t  whence  that  gleam  of  sunshine 
sliooting  across  the  heart  on  an  otherwise  gusty  day  ? 
Let  us  trace  them  to  the  principles  from  which  they  arose, 
and  we  shall  have  made  some  advance  towards  'Iv^  i- - 
sired  discovery. 

When  the  discovery  is  made,  the  path  of  the  spiri- 
tual combatant  becomes  clear,  however  arduous.  Your 
fighting  is  to  bo  no  longer  a  flourishing  of  the  arms  in 
the  air ;  it  is  to  assume  a  definite  form,  it  is  to  bo  a 
combat  with  the  bosom  sin.  Appropriate  mortifica- 
tions must  be  adopted,  such  as  common  sense  will  sug- 
gest, varying  with  the  nature  of  the  sin,  and  combined 
always  with  a  heartfelt  acknowledgment  of  our  utter 
weakness,  and  with  a  silent  but  fervent  prayer  for  the 
Grace  of  Almighty  God.  If  indolence  be  the  beset- 
ting sin,  we  must  watch  against  slovenliness  in  little 
things,  which  is  the  mild  form  of  the  complaint ;  if 
selfishness,  we  must  lay  ourselves  out  to  consider  and 
gratify  the  wishes  of  others ;  if  vanity,  we  must  se- 
cretly bless  God  in  our  heart  for  all  mortifications  of 
it,  and  particularly  avoid  the  snare  of  speaking  hum- 
bly of  ourselves ;  if  discontent,  we  must  review,  in 
our  seasons  of  devotion,  the  many  bright  points  of  our 
position,  and  seek  our  happiness  in  our  work ;  if  hu- 
man respect,  we  must  habituate  ourselves  to  look  at  our 
actions  as  we  shall  look  at  them  when  the  judgment  of 
God  upon  them  will  be  the  only  matter  of  importance  ; 
if  sensuality,  the  discipline  of  fasting  and  abstinence 
from  some  innocent  enjoyments  must  be  used  as  far  as 
health  permits.  Our  Lord  having  implied  this  in  the 
strongest  possible  manner  when  He  said  of  a  certain 
kind  of  evil  spirits,  "  This  kind  goeth  not  out  but  by 
prayer  and  fasting.** 


238  Fight  loisely.  [pari 

But  the  great  matter  to  be  attended  to  in  each  case 
is,  that  the  whole  forces  of  the  will  should  be  concen- 
trated  for  a  time  in  that  one  part  of  the  field,  in  which 
the  begetting  sin  has  intrenched  itself.  Thus  point  and 
definiteness  will  be  given  to  Christian  effort,  the  impor- 
tance of  which  has  been  already  shown ;  we  shall  not 
lose  our  time,  or  waste  our  strength,  as  those  who  in 
fighting  beat  the  air ;  and  we  shall  find  doubtless,  th;^t 
in  supplanting  the  besetting  sin,  we  shall  be  also  weak- 
ening the  vitality  of  subordinate  faults  of  character, 
which  cluster  together  round  that  one  nucleus. 

Let  me  say  finally,  that  for  each  one  of  us,  no  busi- 
ness can  be  of  more  pressing  moment,  of  more  ur- 
gent importance,  than  this  discovery  of  our  besetting 
sin.  The  bosom  sin  in  Grace  exactly  resembles  a 
strong  current  in  nature,  which  is  setting  full  upon  dan- 
gerous shoals  and  quicksands.  If  in  your  spiritual 
computation  you  do  not  calculate  upon  your  besetting 
sin,  upon  its  force,  its  ceaseless  operation,  and  its  art- 
fulness, it  will  sweep  you  on  noiselessly,  and  with 
every  appearance  of  calm,  but  surely  and  effectually,  to 
your  ruin.  So  may  we  see  a  gallant  ship  leave  the 
dock,  fairly  and  bravely  rigged,  and  with  all  her  pen- 
nons flying  ;  and  the  high  sea,  when  she  has  cleft  her 
way  into  it,  is  unwrinkled  as  the  brow  of  childhood, 
and  seems  to  laugh  with  many  a  twinkling  smile  ;  and 
when  night  falls,  the  moonbeam  dances  upon  the  wave, 
and  the  brightness  of  the  day  has  left  a  delicious  balm- 
iness  behind  it  in  the  air,  and  the  ship  is  anchored  neg 
ligently  and  feebly,  and  all  is  then  still  save  the  gentle 
drowsy  gurgling  which  tells  that  water  is  the  element 
in  which  she  floats;  but  in  the  dead  of  the  night, 
the  anchor  loses  its  holds,  and  then  the  current, 
deep  and  powerful,  bears  her  noiselessly  whither  it  will ; 


III.]  Fiffhi  tnV/y.  239 

and  in  tho  morning  the  wail  of  desperation  rises  from 
!i  •  !  <  !x^.  for  she  has  fallen  on  the  shoal,  and  the  dis- 
(•('iivoiat  ness  of  tlic  dreary  twilight,  as  the  brcezo 
springs  with  tho  daybreak,  and  with  rude  impact  dashes 
her  planks  angrily  against  the  rock,  contrasts  strangely 
Nvitli  the  comfort  and  pcacefulness  of  the  past  eve 
ning.  Such  was  tho  doom  of  Judas  Iscariot.  Blessed 
with  the  companionship  of  Our  Lord  Himself,  dignified 
with  the  Apostleship,  and  adorned  with  all  the  high 
graces  which  that  vocation  involved,  he  was  blinded  to 
the  undercurrent  of  his  character,  which  set  in  the  di- 
rection of  the  Mammon  of  unrighteousness,  and  wliich 
eventually  ensured  for  him  an  irretrievable  fall. 

In  conclusion,  he  who  prays  (as  we  should  all  do), 
"  Show  me  myself,  Lord,"  should  take  good  care  to 
add,  lest  self-knowledge  plunge  him  into  despair, "  Show 
me  also  TJiyself,*^  The  course  recommended  in  this 
chapter,  if  honestly  adopted,  will  probably  lead  us  to 
the  conclusion  that  our  heart,  which  showed  so  fair 
without,  is  but  a  whited  sepulchre,  an  Augean  stable, 
full  of  corruptions  and  disorders,  which  it  requires  a 
moral  Hercules  to  cleanse ;  but,  blessed  be  God,  the 
Love  of  Christ,  and  the  Blood  of  Christ,  and  the  Grace 
of  Christ  are  stronger  than  ten  thousand  depravities 
and  corruptions,  though  riveted  down  to  the  soul  by 
the  chain  of  evil  habit.  And  when  God  exhibits  to  the 
soul  His  Love,  as  mirrored  in  those  bleeding  Wounds, 
and  the  omnipotence  of  His  free  Grace,  the  energy 
which  is  felt  there  is  great  enough  to  crush  any  and 
every  foe.  The  gentlest  touch  of  God*s  finger  upon 
the  soul  is  like  the  touch  of  the  dawn  upon  the  dark 
liorizon.  Birds  waken  and  trill  their  notes,  and  loaves 
flutter  in  the  fresh  breeze,  and  there  is  an  electric  thrill 
of  joy  and  hope  through  the  whole  domain  of  nature 


240  Of  the  Nature  of  Teirfptation.  [part 

My  reader,  thy  whole  soul  shall  leap  up  at  that  touch ; 
holy  affections  shall  lift  up  their  hymn  of  praise  with 
thee,  and  thy  heart  shall  flutter  with  mingled  awe 
and  joy,  and  thou  shalt  know  that  thou  hast  found  thy 
Lord. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

OF  THE  NATUEE  OF  TEMPTATION. 
"  Then  was  Jems tempted  of  the  deviV — Matt.  iv.  1. 

A  Devotional  writer  of  the  present  day,  in  answer  to 
the  question,  "  How  are  we  to  overcome  temptations  ?  " 
says,  "  Cheerfulness  is  the  first  thing,  cheerfulness  is 
the  second,  and  cheerfulness  is  the  third."  It  is  very 
true.  Faint  heart  never  won  any  thing  that  was  worth 
winning, — least  of  all  a  spiritual  battle.  Whereas  vic- 
tories have  often  been  won  against  fearful  odds  by  some 
news  which  have  raised  the  spirits  of  the  troops. 
Lightness  and  brightness  of  heart,  and  an  unfailing 
elasticity  of  spirit,  must  characterize  the  good  soldier 
of  Jesus  Christ,  if  he  is  to  break  his  way  to  the  heavenly 
country  through  the  serried  ranks  of  his  spiritual  foes. 

Having  considered,  then,  in  our  last  Chapter  how  we 
may  meet  temptation  wisely,  the  question  now  arises, 
an  answer  to  which  is  scarcely  necessary  to  success,  how 
we  may  meet  it  cheerfully.  And  it  will  be  found,  I 
apprehend,  that  a  want  of  cheerfulness  in  meeting  tempt- 
ation is  due  to  a  misapprehension  either  of  its  nature, 
or  of  the  support  which  may  be  expected  in  it,  or  of  its 
salutary  effects. 

We  shall  speak  in  this  Chapter  of  its  nature. 


III.]  Of  the  Nature  of  Temptation,  J  1 1 

It  has  been  said  of  theoaglo, — ^and  if  natural  history 
will  not  bear  it  out,  the  piety  with  which  the  fable  has 
boon  applied  serves  to  reconcile  us  to  the  fiction, — that 
the  parent  bird  practises  the  young  to  fly  by  dropping 
thim,  when  half-fledged,  from  her  wings;  and  that, 
when  the  breeze  is  proving  too  strong  for  them,  and 
their  little  pinions  begin  to  flag  and  waver  amid  the 
resistance  of  the  air,  she  swoops  underneath  them,  hav- 
ing indeed  never  lost  sight  of  them  for  an  instant,  and 
receives  them  again  upon  her  own  person,  and  sails  on 
with  them  majestically  as  before.  And  the  circum- 
stance, real  or  imagined,  has  been  called  in  to  illustrate 
that  exquisite  passage  in  the  song  of  Moses :  "  As  an 
oaglo  stirreth  up  her  nest,  fluttoreth  over  her  young, 
spreadeth  abroad  her  wings,  taketh  them,  be^ircth  them 
on  her  wings ;  so  the  Lord  alone  did  lead  him.  and  there 
was  no  strange  god  with  him." 

At  all  events,  whether  the  eagle  disciplines  her 
young  or  no  in  the  exact  manner  described  above, — and 
the  text  does  not  go  the  length  of  saying  this, — we  have 
in  the  supposed  fact  a  most  true  representation  of  the 
way  in  which  God  proves  His  children,  while  they  are 
yet  spiritually  fledgelings,  and  of  the  sense  of  danger, 
utter  dismay,  piteous  cries  for  help,  which  such  proba- 
tion involves.  At  the  beginning  of  the  spiritual  life, 
when  the  first  fervours  of  conversion  are  upon  a  man, 
when  he  has  fully  declared  for  Christ  in  his  own  mind, 
or,  in  other  words,  has  realized  in  his  own  experience 
the  conditions  on  which  Baptism  was  granted,  he  is  al- 
most sure  to  dream  of  Heaven  at  once,  and  to  overlook 
that  long  period  of  struggle,  discomfort,  and  uncertain- 
ty through  which  he  must  pass  on  this  side  the  grave, 
before  ho  can  attain  a  meetness  for  glory.  It  is  just  as 
if  an  Israelite  had  dreamed  of  entering  into  the  land 
11 


242  Of  the  Nature  of  Temptation.  [paet 

flowing  with  milk  and  honey  immediately  after  the 
Exodus,  and  had  overlooked  "the  waste,  howling 
wilderness  "  lying  between  Egypt  and  Canaan.  That 
history  is  wonderfully  typical;  and  beginners  in  re- 
ligion will  do  well  to  bear  in  mind  the  arrangement  of 
its  several  parts.  Egypt  is  a  figure  of  the  world,  which 
lies  under  the  dominion  of  Satan,  the  spiritual  Pharaoh. 
The  passage  of  the  Red  Sea  is  a  figure  of  Baptism, 
which  stands  at  the  threshold  of  spiritual  life.  The 
passage  of  Jordan  is  a  figure  of  death ;  and  the  earthly 
Canaan  is  a  figure  of  the  heavenly.  Of  what,  then,  is 
the  wilderness,  with  its  arid  sand,  its  barren  sun- 
smitten  crags,  its  fiery  serpents,  a  picture  ?  Of  the 
Christian's  pilgrimage  through  the  regions  of  manifold 
temptations, — temptations  which  for  the  first  time 
awake  in  all  their  power,  like  winds  blowing  from  all 
the  four  quarters  of  heaven,  as  soon  as  he  becomes  an 
earnest  Christian,  or,  as  I  have  phrased  it  in  other 
words,  as  soon  as  he  realizes  his  Baptism.  So  long  as 
he  moved  in  the  groove  of  formalism,  and  contented 
himself  M^th  a  religion  of  stated  ordinances,  opposition 
was  comparatively  asleep ;  but  now,  when  he  stirs  him 
self  energetically  in  the  right  direction,  it  seems  as  if 
God  had  given  His  summons  to  the  winds  to  sweep 
over  the  garden  of  the  soul :  "  Awake,  O  north  wind ; 
and  come,  thou  south  ;  blow  upon  my  garden."  We 
are  much  distressed,  like  the  eagle's  fledgelings,  when 
she  drops  them.  At  every  step,  we  discover  some  new 
corruption  of  the  heart,  some  new  force  of  sinful  pas- 
sion, or  habit,  which  baffles  and  beats  us  back.  One 
besetting  sin !  we  flattered  ourselves  we  had  but  one  ; 
but,  lo  !  their  name  is  legion.  The  eflfort  which  it  is 
necessary  to  make,  in  order  to  maintain  watchfulness 
for  a  day,  fatigues  ns, — is   quite  too   much  for  oui 


m.]  Of  the  Nature  of  Temptation,  243 

strength.  A  crop  of  little  trials  spring  \ip,  which  there 
is  no  sort  of  dignity  in  resisting  or  conquering,  resulting 
perhaps  from  unevenness  of  temper  in  ourselves  and 
those  we  live  with, — teasing  trials,  though  of  no  mag- 
nitude, just  as  flics  tease  us  in  the  warm  weather  ;  they 
make  us  lose  our  equilibrium,  and  all  for  a  trifle,  which 
is  very  humbling.  Then  wo  secretly  hoped  to  find  a 
resource  in  Prayer,  and  looked  perhaps  to  the  evening 
hour  of  devotion  as  a  period  when  we  would  sound  the 
trumpet,  and  rally  our  scattered  forces.  But,  alas  !  wo 
cannot  pray  without  such  distractions  as  render  the 
prayer  barren,  dry,  and  apparently  profitless.  In 
meditation,  we  find  it  impossible  to  fasten  our  mind  to 
the  point,  and  seem  to  waste  a  greal  deal  of  time  in, 
making  the  eflbrt.  And  then  comes  the  thought,  so 
perfectly  familiar  to  all  who  have  ever  sought  sincerely 
to  give  themselves  unto  Prayer, — a  thought  suspected, 
while  admitted,  like  a  foreigner  upon  whoso  movements 
the  police  are  charged  to  have  their  eye,  but  still 
admitted — that  if  Prayer  cannot  be  offered  with  fluency 
and  glow  of  feeling  and  satisfaction  to  our  own  minds, 
it  had  better  not  be  offered  at  all.  And  when  the  faldstool 
is  abandoned  in  a  fit  of  peevishness  and  disgust,  the 
struggle  is  over  for  the  day ;  it  is  as  when  the  weak 
pinion  of  the  young  bird  drops  motionless  by  its  side, 
and  a  steady  descent  thenceforth  commences.  The 
same  feelings  of  disappointment  and  despondency,  on  a 
larger  scale,  corresponding  to  the  magnitude  of -the 
occasion,  beset  us  frequently  after  receiving  the  Holy 
Communion.  We  looked  for  the  strengthening  and 
refreshing  of  our  souls,  and  really  wound  ourselves  up 
to  as  much  devotion  as  we  were  capable  of;  but,  on  the 
contrary,  the  whole  of  our  inner  man  seems  to  collapse 
with  thf  effort,  and  to  lie  open  more  than  ever  to  the 


244  Of  the  Nature  of  Temptation.  [pari 

assaults  of  indolence,  softness,  levity  and  dissipation  of 
mind.  In  a  word,  we  are  made  to  discover  that  the 
harder  we  struggle  against  the  Devil,  and  the  flesh,  the 
harder  they  struggle  against  us  ;  according  to  that  pro- 
found word  of  the  Apostle's,  "  The  flesh  lusteth  against 
the  Spirit,  and  the  Spirit  against  the  flesh." 

Now  it  is  not  the  business  of  the  present  Chapter  to 
discuss  at  length  the  supports  of  the  tempted  soul-. 
These  are  matters  for  after  consideration.  Yet  I  can- 
not help  so  far  forestalling  this  part  of  the  subject,  as  to 
remark  that  the  eagle,  watching  her  young  with  keen 
eye,  and  sweeping  beneath  them  with  outstretched 
wing,  as  she  sees  them  faint  with  exhaustion, — that  our 
Lord  walking  on  the  waters,  and  stretching  forth  His 
hand  to  Peter  when  He  saw  him  sinking, — that  these 
similitudes  give  the  exactly  true  idea  of  the  relations 
between  Christ  and  the  tempted  soul.  If  thou  hast  not 
yet.  finally  abandoned  the  struggle ;  if  thou  hast  again 
picked  up  thy  resolve,  and  taken  heart  for  a  new 
resistance, — why  is  it  ?  This  recovery,  this  pause  in 
the  downward  career,  was  not  of  thyself.  It  was  the 
Divine  Eagle,  swooping  beneath  her  young,  as,  drooping 
and  baffled,  they  commenced  a  downward  course ;  it 
was  the  Lord  stretching  forth  His  saving  hand,  and 
catching  the  poor  disciple  before  he  was  altogether 
engulphed.  The  mere  fact,  than  w^hich  nothing  can  be 
more  certain,  that  He  is  looking  on  with  keenest 
interest,  while  humbling  thee,  and  proving  thee,  to  see 
what  is  in  thine  heart ; — that  he  is  near  at  hand  to 
give  succour  when  He  sees  the  right  moment  to  have 
arrived,  a  little  above  thee  in  the  sky,  or  close  at  thy 
side  upon  the  billow ; — that  His  Omnipotence,  His  Love, 
His  Wisdom,  are  all  engaged  in  administering  the 
temptation,  in   meting  it  out,  in   adjusting  it  to  thy 


m.]  0/ the  Nature  of  Temptation,  245 

strengthyin  not  allowing  it  to  proceed  to  undue  lengths 
— this  of  itself  should  prove  a  cordial  to  thy  heartland 
invigorate  thee  to  pursue  the  course  on  which  thou  hast 
entered. 

But  a  great  deal  of  the  distress,  wliich  many  persons 
under  temptations  experience,  arises  from  their  not 
understanding  the  nature  of  temptation.  In  the  early 
stages  of  spiritual  life,  more  especially,  persons  often 
flounder  from  having  crude  and  ill-defined  notions  on 
the  subject.  They  have  a  certain  vague  idea  that  peace 
and  quietness  of  mind  are  essential  to  a  right  state ; 
and  as  temptation,  of  course,  destroys  peace  and  quiet- 
ness, and  makes  turbid  the  waters  of  the  soul,  they 
conclude  that  temptation  indicates  a  WTong  state. 
Hence  they  have  a  feeling  of  guilt  connected  with 
temptation,  which  adds  very  much  to  the  ordinary  dis- 
comforts of  it.  They  need  to  be  instructed  that  tempta- 
tion is  not  sin  ;  and  that  not  until  the  will  consent? 
to  it, — not  until  it  is  wilfully  entertained  and  cherished, 
—does  temptation  become  sin.  Nay,  we  may  go  further. 
Temptation  is  not  always  even  a  sign  of  a  sinful  nature. 
It  is  quite  possible  that  its  appeal  may  be  made  to 
feelings,  which  in  themselves  are  perfectly  pure  and 
innocent.  Our  Lord's  temptation  is  a  proof  of  this. 
We  are  told,  on  the  one  hand,  that  He  was  "  tempted 
in  all  points  like  as  we  are ,"  and  we  are  told,  on  the 
other,  that  He  was  "  without  sin ; " — not  merely  with- 
out sins,  but  "  without  *m,"  that  is  without  the  sinful 
tendency  or  principle.  Yet  that  His  trials  both  in  the 
wilderness,  at  the  commencement  of  His  ministry,  and 
in  the  Garden  of  Gethsemane  at  its  close,  were  most 
agonizing,  there  can  be  no  question.  There  was  a  will 
in  Our  Blessed  Lord,  as  there  is  in  us,  which  shrunk 
from  every  form   of  physical   and  mental  suffering. 


246  Oj  the  Nature  of  Temiotation.  [pari 

Satan  had  access  to  His  imagination,  and  filled  it  with 
pictures  of  the  ease,  comfort,  dignity,  power  which  He 
might  enjoy,  if  He  would  only  abandon  the  great 
project  of  Human  Redemption,  sketched  out  before  the 
world  began  in  the  counsels  of  the  Eternal  Three. 
There  was  an  inward  voice  which  seconded  Peter's 
words,  when  he  dissuaded  from  suffering  and  death,  and 
counselled  softer  things.  Our  Lord  knew  whose  voice 
it  was,  and  that  Peter  was  only  the  mouthpiece  who 
gave  it  articulation  ;  and  accordingly,  He  turns  upon 
the  Apostle  with  the  sternest  word  of  reproof  which 
ever  escaped  His  lips, "  Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan ;  thou 
art  an  offence"  (snare, stumbling-block)  "unto  me;  for 
thou  savourest  not  the  things  that  be  of  God,  but  those 
that  be  of  men." 

But  it  is  doubted  whether,  with  sinful  men  like  our- 
selves, temptations  can  be  addressed  to  us,  which  shall 
not  correspond  with  any  corrupt  and  depraved  feeling, 
but  shall  fasten  only  upon  some  innocent  principle  *? 
The  trial  of  Abraham's  faith  is  a  case  in  point.  He 
was  commanded  by  God  to  slay  his  son.  The  tempta- 
tion was  severe  just  in  proportion  as  Abraham's 
parental  affection  was  strong ;  it  was  this  affection,  a 
pure  and  innocent  one  surely,  which  was  made  the  in- 
strument of  the  temptation.  And,  to  come  down  to 
our  own  circumstances,  there  is  no  difficulty  in  imagin- 
ing the  case  of  a  man  tempted  by  hunger  to  steal  food, 
or  pressed  to  do  the  same  thing  by  the  necessities  of 
those  dependent  on  him ;  or  of  another,  tempted  by  his 
very  faith  in  God's  love  and  goodness  to  presumption. 
Temptation  then,  and  our  accessibility  to  it,  is  not 
always  a  proof  even  of  a  sinful  nature.  Sometimes,  of 
course,  it  does  prove  this  ;  for  such  disorders  have  crept 
into   the   human  heart   with   the   Fall,  that  its  great 


ui.]  Of  the  Nature  of  Temptation,  247 

original  aflfoctions  have  to  a  great  extent  lost  their 
character  by  fastening  upon  wrong  ends ; — anger  has 
become  irritability  and  peevishness,  fear  has  degenerat- 
ed into  human  respect,  forethought  has  corrupted  into 
anxiety,  and  generous  emulation  lias  soured  into  dis- 
content ;  and  though  anger,  fear,  forethought,  and 
emulation  be  in  their  raw  material  no  sins,  we  cannot 
say  as  much  of  their  degeneracies.  Still,  even  where  a 
man  is  tempted  by  means  of  these  corrupt  and  degen- 
erate feelings,  though  it  may  be  an  evidence  of  that 
"  infection  of  nature,  which  doUi  remain,  yea  in  them 
that  are  regenerated ; "  yea,  though  he  may  be  hedged 
in  and  sore  beset  by  them  on  all  sides,  ho  still  commits 
no  sin,  unless  his  will  in  some  measure  consents  to  or 
encourages  them.  And  as  to  the  guilt  arising  from 
the  corruption  of  our  nature,  it  has  been  the  constant 
doctrine  of  the  Church,  that  it  is  removed  by  the 
Sacrament  of  Baptism,  when  tliat  Sacrament  has  been 
realized,  in  the  individual's  .experience,  by  Faith. 
"There  is  now  no  condemnation,"  says  our  Ninth 
Article,  "for  them  that  believe  and  are  baptized," 
though  "the  Apostle  doth  confess  that, concupiscence 
and  lust  hath  of  itself  the  nature  of  sin." 

See  now,  tempted  soul,  whether  this  r  consideration, 
applied  to  thine  own  case,  may  not  somewhat  lighten 
thy  burden.  You  are  beset  by  distractions  in  Prayer 
and  Meditation.  Well ;  di'stractioiis  are  no  sin  ;  nay, 
if  struggled  against  patiently  and  cheerfully,  they  shall 
be  a  jewel  in  thy  crown.  Did  you  go  through  with 
the  religious  exercise  as  well  as  ypu  could,  not  willing- 
ly harbouring  the  distraction  6^  ^iiscnting  to  it  ?  In 
this  case,  the  prayer  was  quite  as  a^w^ptable,  as  if  it 
had  been  accompanied  with  those  high-flown  feelings  of 


248  Of  the  Nature  of  Temptation.  [part 

fervour  and  sensible  delight  which  God  sometimes  gives^ 
and  sometimes,  for  our  better  discipline  and  humilia- 
tion, withholds.  Nay,  may  we  not  say,  that  it  was 
much  more  acceptable?  Do  not  the  Scriptures  give 
us  reason  to  think  that  prayer,  persevering  amidst 
difficulties  and  humiliations,  prayer  clinging  close  to 
Christ,  despite  His  rebuffs,  is  more  acceptable  than  the 
prayer  which  has  its  way  smooth  before  it,  and  whose 
wings  are  fdled  by  the  favouring  gale  %  What  else  are 
we  to  learn  from  the  acceptance  of  Bartimaeus's  peti- 
tion, who  cried  so  much  the  more,  when  the  multitude 
rebuked  him  that  he  should  hold  his  peace  1  What 
else  from  the  commendation  and  recompense  of  the 
Syrophoenician's  faith  ?  Wouldst  thou  know  the 
avenue  to  the  Saviour's  heart,  when  thou  art  driven 
from  His  footstool  by  manifold .  discouragements,  by 
deadness,  numbness,  insensibility, — and  He  Himself 
seems  to  cover  Himself  with  a  cloud,  so  that  thy  prayer 
may  not  pass  through  1  Confess  thyself  a  dog,  and 
plead  for  such  crumbs  as  are  the  dog's  allowed  and 
recognized  portion.  Call  to  mind  the  many  times 
when  thou  hast  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  Christ's  expos- 
tulations with  thee  through  thy  conscience.  Eeflect 
that  thou  hast  deserved  nothing  but  repulses,  and  to 
have  all  thy  drafts  upon  Him  dishonoured ;  and  yet 
cling  to  His  Sacred  Feet,  while  thou  sinkest  thus  low 
before  Him,  resolving  not  to  let  Him  go,  except  He 
bless  thee ;  and  this  act  of  humility  and  perseverance 
shall  make  thy  lame  and  halting  prayer  far  more 
acceptable  to  the  Divine  Majesty  than  if  it  sailed  to 
Heaven,  with  all  the  fluency  of  conscious  inspiration, 
like  Balaam's  prophecy  of  old,  which  was  prefaced,  ur> 
happy  soul !  by  the  assertion  of  his  gifts. 


III.]  Of  the  Nature  of  Tcmjytation,  249 

Again  ;  more  feelings  of  irritability,  indolcncOf  im- 
purity, collapse,  weariness,  partisanship,  unkindncss, 
suspiciousness,  and  so  forth,  are  not  in  themselves  sins. 
They  must  bo  consented  to  and  harboured  before  they 
can  become  so.  Just  as  musicians  prelude  their  pieces 
by  a  flourish,  so  Satan  occasionally  runs  his  fmgers 
over  the  key-board  of  the  mind,  awakening  all  these 
feelings,  in  their  turn,  and  confounding  us  by  the  con- 
sciousness of  the  amount  of  evil  which  there  is  within. 
But  there  is  still  no  sin,  so  long  as  wo  reject  and  re- 
nounce these  feelings,  and  thrust  them  out  by  prayer 
and  instant  application  to  some  useful  work.  Our 
minds  may  be  rendered  uncomfortable  by  them,  or, 
as  the  Apostle  Peter  phrases,  we  may  be  "  in  heaviness 
through  manifold  temptations  ;**  but  heaviness  and 
discomfort  are  no  sins.  Nay,  heaviness  of  spirit, 
resulting  from  temptation,  is  the  Cross  of  the  Garden 
laid  on  us  by  Him  who  bore  it  in  Gcthsemane  ;  and  it 
is  a  great  honour  and  privilege  to  be  called  upon,  like 
the  three  chosen  ones  of  the  chosen,  to  come  and  watch 
with  Him  for  one  short  hour. 

Yes  !  multitudinous  temptitions  are,  indeed,  a  great 
dignity,  as  helping  to  assimilate  us  to  the  image  of 
Christ ;  and,  if  we  comport  ourselves  well  under  them, 
a  great  means  of  spiritual  advancement.  When  a  hard 
winter  sets  in,  and  the  earth  is  covered  with  a  mantle 
of  snow,  and  each  little  knot  and  spray  in  the  hedgerow 
is  encrusted  with  icicles,  vegetation  seems  to  be  killed, 
and  every  green  thing  blighted.  But  it  is  not  so.  The 
genial  forces  of  the  earth  are  driven  inward,  and  work- 
ing deep  in  her  bosom.  The  snow  mantle  is  doing  for 
her  what  the  fur  mantle  does  for  the  human  frame, — 
concentrating  and  preserving  the  vital  heat  within.    So 


250  Of  the  Nature  of  Temptation.  [pari 

it  is  in  Temptation :  the  time  of  temptation  is  a 
cheerless  and  dreary  hour,  when  everything  seems  at 
a  standstill,  and  the  spiritual  pulse  can  no  longer  be 
heard,  it  beats  so  faintly  to  the  outward  touch  :  but  if 
the  will  is  faithful  and  true,  and  the  soul  patient,  the 
life  is  really  concentrating  itself,  and  rallying  its  forces 
within.  The  cheerless  outward  aspect  is  nothing ; — 
there  are  hidden  agencies  at  work,  which  in  due  time 
shall  bring  out  the  full  bloom  and  redolence  of  a 
spiritual  spring.  There  have  been  moderate  Christians, 
there  have  been  shallow  Christians,  without  very  much 
temptation ;  but  there  never  yet  was  a  saintly  Chris- 
tian, never  yet  one  who  pressed  to  the  higher  sum- 
mits of  the  spiritual  life,  never  one,  whose  banner 
bore  the  strange  device  ^'  Excelsior,"  who  was  not  made 
the  victim  of  manifold  temptations.  There  are  many 
good  men  in  the  world  who  seem  to  live  in  a  continual 
light  gaiety  and  sunshine  of  heart,  and  yet  whom  it 
would  be  quite  wrong  and  wide  of  the  mark  to  reckon 
irreligious  men ;  they  pay  a  very  unfeigned  attention 
to  the  concerns  of  Religion,  are  in  high  esteem  both  for 
kindness  and  prudence,  are  counted  examples  in  their 
social  circle,  and  are  in  their  way  devout, — and  all 
this  without  seeming  to  find  much  difficulty  and  im 
pediment.  If  they  are  what  they  appear  to  be,  they 
are  not  deep  men ;  and  while  we  may  not  for  a  mo- 
ment judge  them  otherwise  than  charitably,  we  need 
not  for  a  moment  envy  them.  When  God  besets  the 
soul  with  temptations.  He  is  calling  it  to  something 
high  in  spiritual  enterprise,  and  great  in  spiritual 
attainment.  Let  us  recognize  it  as  being  so,  and  pray 
earnestly  not  to  frustrate  the  vocation  by  the  per- 
versity  and  sluggishness  of  our  own  wills. 


in.]  Fight  with  Distrust  in  Self^  dbc,  251 

"  My  brethren,  count  it  all  joy  when  yo  fall  into 

divers  temptations ;  knowing  this,  that  the  trying  of 
your  faith  worlceth  patience.  But  let  patience  have 
her  perfect  work,  tliat  ye  may  bo  perfect  and  entire, 
wanting  nothing." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

•  FIGHT  WITH  DISTRUST  IN  SELF  AND  TRUST  IN 
CHRIST. 

**And  in  the  fourth  vxUch  of  the  niffht  Jesti*  tocrU  unto  them^ 
waUdnff  on  the  sea.  And  when  the  diaeipUs  sato  him 
walking  on  the  $ea  they  were  troubled^  *^*Vt  It  is  a 
sjnrit:  and  theg  cried  out  for  fear.  But  ttratghtway  Jeaua 
epake  unto  them^  taying^  Be  of  good  cheer  ;  it  i»  I:  be  not 
afraid.  And  Peter  anetoered  him  and  aaid^  Lord,  if  it  he 
thoH^  hid  me  come  unto  thee  on  the  water.  And  he  said. 
Come.  And  when  Peter  woe  come  clown  out  of  the  $hip, 
he  walked  on  the  water,  to  go  to  Jeeue.  But  when  he  saw 
the  wind  hoi^erous,  he  was  afraid ;  and  beginning  to  sink, 
he  cried,  sayir^.  Lord,  save  me.  And  immediately  Jesus 
stretched  forth  his  hand,  and  caught  him,  and  said  unto  him^ 
O  thou  of  little  faith,  wherefore  didst  thou  doubt  f  " — Matt. 
xir.  25—31. 

TfiE  harmony  with  themselves  of  the  characters  de- 
scribed in  Scripture  is  a  proof  that  these  characters 
really  existed, — an  internal  evidence  in  favour  of  the 
authenticity  of  the  Bible.  It  would  be  very  difficult 
for  an  impostor,  for  example,  to  frame  two  such  in- 
cidents as  St.  Peter's  failure  in  his  attempt  to  walk 
iipon  the  waters,  and  St.  Peter^s  denial  of  his  Master, 


252  Fight  with  Distrust  in  Self  [part 

both  exhibiting  precisely  the  same  weak  point  in  the 
Apostle's  character  under  circumstances  totally  differ- 
ent. Or,  had  he  framed  them,  he  would  not  have  thrown 
them  out,  as  St.  Matthew  has  done,  far  apart  from  one 
another  in  the  narrative  without  any  remark  to  connect 
them  ;  but  would  have  given  his  reader  some  hint  that, 
if  compared  and  set  side  by  side,  they  would  be  seen  to 
have,  under  great  diversities,  a  similarity  of  principle.' 
As  it  is,  the  coincidence  is  too  subtle  to  have  been  de- 
signed :  and  we  cannot  otherwise  account  for  it,  than  by 
supposing  St.  Peter  to  have  been  an  actually*  existing 
man,  whose  sayings  and  doings  are  recorded ;  and  the 
same  points  of  character  are  constantly  coming  out  in 
the  same  man,  whatever  the  variety  of  circumstances 
in  which  he  is  placed. 

But  when  pointed  out,  the  coincidence  is  full  of  in- 
terest. It  is  interesting  to  see  St.  Peter's  boast  of 
attachment  to  Christ,  and  St.  Peter's  fall  both  rehearsed 
beforehand,  as  it  were,  to  a  private  audience,  when 
comparatively  little  was  at  stake.  The  Apostle  was 
enthusiastically  attached  to  his  Master,  and  conscious 
of  the  strength  of  his  attachment.  He  was  also  bold 
with  all  the  boldness  of  chivalry,  presumptuous,  and 
self-reliant.  These  latter  qualities  procured  for  him  a 
tremendous  fall  in  the  great  crisis  of  the  apprehension 
of  Christ ;  but  they  had  procured  for  him  already  a  fall 
in  a  previous  lesser  crisis.  Then,  too,  as  just  before  his 
denial,  he  had  virtually  professed  his  faith  in  Christ, 
and  his  attachment  to  Christ,  and  had  challenged  a  trial 
of  that  faith  and  that  attachment :  "  Lord,  if  it  be  Thou, 
bid  me  come  unto  Thee  on  the  water."  Then,  too,  he 
had  gone  on  w^ell,  and  in  pursuance  of  his  professions, 
up  to  a  certain  time,  walking  on  the  waters  for  a  few 
paces,  just  as  on  the  latter  occasion  he  drew  his  sword 


III.]  and  Trust  in  Christ.  263 

ftnd  smoto  a  servant  of  tho  High  Priest,  and  cut  off  his 
oar.  Then,  too,  he  had  failed  after  the  expiration  of  a 
time,  and  exposed  himself  to  the  remarks  of  his  les? 
enterprising  colleagues,  as  being  unable  to  go  through 
with  that  which  he  had  begun  :  when  ho  saw  the  wind 
boisterous,  his  heart  failed  him,  and  he  was  afraid,  and 
began  to  sink.  Thus  both  his  trial,  and  his  short- 
coming in  trial,  had  been  practised,  if  I  may  so  say, 
beforehand. 

Now  here  at  once  a  thought  meets  us,  very  necessary 
to  bo  dwelt  upon,  in  discussing  the  subject  of  Tempta- 
tions. Temptations,  then,  are  not  always  of  the  same 
magnitude,  or  on  the  same  scale.  Occasionally  only,  in 
the  course  of  a  lifetime,  some  great  crisis  comes  to 
approve  the  steadfastness  of  our  Christian  Principle. 
There  are  inducements  to  form  a  connexion  which  is 
doubtful,  or  to  desert  a  right  cause  which  is  becoming 
unpopular,  or  to  be  lenient  in  condemning  evil,  or  to 
liazard  a  crooked  policy  for  a  great  gain  or  a  high  dis- 
tinction. These  great  opportunities,  however,  occur  but 
seldom.  Days  and  days  wear  away,  each  Of  them 
lormative  of  our  character, — each  of  them  leaving  upon 
that  character  the  visible  stamp  and  impress  of  the 
way  in  which  it  has  been  spent, — which  are  unmarked 
by  any  momentous  trial,  and  when  our  conduct  is  in  no 
sense  before  Society.  These  days  funiish  nothing  more 
than  the  petty  temptations  to  indolence,  vanity,  temper, 
selfishness,  loquacity,  and  so  fbrth,  which  are  never  at 
•any  time  absent  from  us,  and  from  which  no  sort  of 
life,  whether  public  or  private,  can  claim  exemption. 
Yet  think  not,  disciple  of  Christ,  that  these  petty 
temptitions  are  to  be  despised.  It  is  in  these  miniature 
trials  that  God  rehearses  His  actors  behind  the  scenes, 
before  He  brings  them  forward  on  the  public  stage. 


254  Fight  with  Bisifusi  in  Self  [part 

thoroughly  trained  and  fitted  to  play  their  parts.  Pe- 
ter's part  was  rehearsed  upon  the  waves,  under  the  eyes 
of  his  kind  Master  and  his  colleagues,  before  he  was 
called  to  play  it  in  the  High  Priest's  palace,  under  hos- 
tile criticism,  and  amidst  the  retainers  of  the  party 
then  in  power ;  and  had  not  Peter  failed  in  his  rehearsal, 
he  would  probably  not  have  failed  on  the  more  critical 
occasion.  It  is  a  mark  of  a  shallow  or  superficial  mind 
to  think  lightly  of  little  temptations  or  of  little  sins. 
Even  judging  according  to  mere  magnitude,  the  stress 
of  many  little  trials,  constantly  harassing  us  day  after 
day,  may  be  as  severe  an  exercise  of  Christian  patience 
as  one  tremendous  trial,  whose  duration  and  intensity 
are  limited.  A  shower  of  needle  arrows — such  as  those 
with  w^hich  the  Lilliputians  assailed  Gulliver  in  the  fa- 
ble— steadily  poured  in  upon  us  day  by  day  would  be 
more  trying  than  one  hour's  exposure  to  darts  of  an 
ordinary  size.  And  to  do  battle  all  day  long  for  years 
,  witljutemper  or  vanity  may  argue,  in  the  sight  of  God, 
as  great  stedfastness  of  principle,  as  the  endurance  of 
the  agonies  of  a  martyr,  which  run  their  course,  and 
are  terminated  before  sundown.  But  character  trans- 
pires in  all  circumstances,  small  as  well  as  great ;  and 
if  by  God's  grace,  character  takes  a  good  shape  in  the 
minor  circumstances  of  life,  it  is  likely  to  retain  that 
shape  when  it  is  more  keenly  sifted.  Never  yet  was  a 
man  true  to  Christian  principle  in  his  own  little  circle, 
who  became  untrue  to  it  Avhen  placed  in  a  position  of 
trust. 

And  there  is  vet  one  other  reason  which  should 
make  us  highly  esteem  our  daily  small  temptations,  and 
very  much  study  our  conduct  in  them.  They  are  a  far 
better  discipline  of  humility  than  sublimer  trials.  We 
get  no  credit  for  meeting  them  well.     No  one  but 


Ill  J  and  Trust  in  Christ.  266 

tlioso  most  intimate  with  us — and  not  always  ovct 
they — know  how  wo  meet  tliem.  It  flatters  our 
vanity  to  demean  ourselves  well  in  a  great  crisis ;  but 
there  is  no  dignity  in  resisting  sins  of  temper  or  of  tho 
tongue.  And  yet,  while  there  is  no  dignity  in  tho 
thing  achieved,  there  is  great  difliculty  in  the  achievo- 
ment.  Now  humility,  if  genuine,  is  the  sweetest  flower 
^vhich  grows  in  tho  garden  of  God ;  and  any  oppor- 
tunities of  cultiN^ting  it  should  be  highly  priicd  and 
carefully  improved.  Welcome,  then,  little  Temptations, 
if  they  discipline  us  m  this  lovely  grace !  These,  if 
met  in  faith  and  love,  are  all  that  is  needed  to  mature 
our  characters  for  glory, — 

"  The  trivial  round,  the  common  task, 
Will  furnish  all  wo  ought  to  ask, 
Room  to  deny  ourselves, — a  road 
To  bring  ua  doilj  nearer  God." 

We  have  spoken  of  humility.  The  incident  of  St. 
Peter's  history  on  which  wo  have  been  commenting, 
brings  out  strongly  his  want  of  it,  and  his  failure  in 
consequence.  He  failed  on  this  as  on  the  later  oc- 
casion, just  because  he  felt  strong  in  himself.  He 
was  conscious  of  his  faith  in  Christ,  and  love  for  Christ, 
and  felt  that  they  were  strong  enough  to  carry  him 
through  any  thing.  It  is  very  remarkable  too^and 
we  shall  miss  much  of  the  instruction  conveyed  by  tho 
incident  if  we  fail  to  remark — that  the  grace  in  rchich 
he  breaks  down  is  his  own  characteristic  grace.  St. 
Peter  was  a  bold  man,  an  enterprising  man,  a  chivalrous 
man,  a  generous  man  ;  it  was  his  boldness,  enterprise, 
chivalry,  and  generosity,  which,  sanctified  by  Grace, 
Nverc  hereafter  to  carry  him  through  fire  and  water,  in 
the  service  of  his  Master.  Yet  in  both  cases,  strange 
to  say,  his  fall  exhibits  hiin  as  timorous  and  pusillani- 


256  Fight  with  Distrust  in  Self  [pakt 

mous, — characteristics  quite  opposite  to  those  which  ho 
really  had.  He,  a  hardy  Galilaean  fisherman,  quails  at 
the  bluster  of  the  elements ;  he  is  cowed,  and  lowers 
his  colours  at  a  question  from  a  maid-servant  who  kept 
the  door.  It  was  the  same  with  other  eminent  saints 
and  servants  of  God.  Moses,  who  was  very  meek 
above  all  the  men  that  were  upon  the  face  of  the  earth, 
was  yet  debarred  from  entering  Canaan,  because  on  one 
occasion  he  lost  his  equanimity  and  spake  unadvisedly 
with  his  lips.  Abraham,  the  father  of  the  faithful, 
could  not  believe  that  God  would  protect  him  at 
Pharaoh's  court,  if  he  took  the  straightforward  path  of 
confessing  that  Sarah  was  his  wife.  St.  John,  the 
Apostle  of  Love,  was  for  calling  down  fire  from  heaven 
upon  Samaritans  who  refused  a  reception  to  his  Master. 
All  these  broke  down  in  their  strong  points,  not  in 
their  weak  ones. 

And  the  lesson  which  we  derive  from  the  failures  of 
all  is  one  and  the  same — the  extreme  brittleness  and 
frailty  of  the  human  will,  even  in  those  points  in  which 
it  seemed  most  to  be  relied  upon.  St.  Peter  was  not 
aware  of  this  brittleness ;  he  had  to  be  instructed  in  it 
by  very  painful  and  humbling  falls.  He  felt  strong  in 
himself,  able  to  walk  upon  the  waves,  able  to  do  and 
dare  in  his  Master's  service  ;  and  consciousness  of  our 
OWT.1  strength  is  a  sure  forerunner  of  a  grievous  fall. 
It  was  this  consciousness  which  made  him  desirous  to 
approve  his  faith  and  love,  by  walking  upon  the  waters 
to  meet  his  Master, — which  made  him  court  trial. 
And  to  court  trial  is  always  a  symptom  which  indicates 
something  unsound  inthe  heart  of  the  person  courting 
it,  some  self-reliance  which  mars  his  faith.  We  are 
taught  to  pray,  "  Lead  us  not  into  temptation," — a 
prayer  which  can  only  be  offered  sincerely  by  those  who 


in]  and  TVust  in  Christ*  J  •  7 

!ool  their  own  utter  weakness.  But  those,  who,  like 
St.  Peter,  long  for  an  opportunity  of  approving  tho 
stedfiistncss  of  their  faith,  virtually  pray,  *'  Lead  us 
into  temptation."  And  then,  when  led  into  it,  and 
when  it  pleases  God  to  make  experiment  of  them,  the) 
fail. 

Tlien  hero  we  come  across  tho  first  thought,  which 
we  desire  to  impress  upon  our  readers  in  this  Chapter, 
in  connexion  with  Temptations.  SeJ^trust,  in  however 
small  a  degree,  is  a  sure  secret  of  failure :  and  if 
liitherto  we  have  failed  again  and  again  in  meeting 
Temptation,  if  our  best  resolves  hitherto  have  been 
liaflled  and  beaten  back,  it  will  be  well  to  examine 
whether  there  be  not  some  particle  of  self-reliance 
lurking  at  the  bottom  of  our  hearts.  It  may  lurk 
there  when  wo  least  suspect  it.  Very  often  it  requires 
some  time  and  consideration  to  bring  it  to  light ;  very 
often  it  assumes  a  specious  and  plausible  shape.  For 
instance,  after  our  falls  we  find  that  we  are  bitterly 
disappointed  with  ourselves,  disgusted  with  our  own 
folly  and  weakness,  and  thrown  out  of  heart  altogether 
for  future  efforts.  There  is  something  in  this  which 
looks  well,  but  it  will  not  bear  probing.  Why  should 
we  be  disappointed  with  self,  unless  we  expected  some- 
thing* from  self, — thought  secretly  that  self  might  be  in 
a  measure  depended  upon  ?  God  is  teaching  us  by  our 
falls ;  but  oh,  how  slow  w^e  are  to  learn  tho  lesson  that 
no  amount  of  evil  in  ourselves  ought  to  surprise  us, 
that  we  ought  to  be  prepared  for  any  thing  in  that 
quarter,  for  any  shortcoming  in  Grace,  for  any  outbreak 
of  sin  !  The  heart  is  a  running  issue  of  evil  ;  and  it  is 
not  to  bo  wondered  at  that  the  issue  bursts  forth 
occasionally.  If  a  man  secretly  says  in  himself,  "  I  am 
not  yet  as  bad  as  that," — "  I  have  it  not  in  me  to  bo 


258  Fight  with  Distrust  in  Self  [pAEt 

so  untrue  to  grace,  so  fliithless  to  Christ  as  that ;" — "  Is 
thy  servant  a  dog,  that  he  should  do  this  great  thing  ?  " 
he  still  thinks  he  has  a  certain  reserve  or  stronghold  of 
virtue  in  his  own  bosom,  on  which  he  can  Ml  back. 
This  is  self-reliance,  and  he  must  be  beaten  out  of  it 
before  he  can  succeed  against  temptation,  according  to 
that  glorious  Christian  paradox  of  the  Apostle,  "  When 
I  am  weak  "  (that  is  thoroughly  imbued  with  a  sense 
of  my  own  weakness),  then  am  I  strong :  "  and  it  is 
wonderful  how  this  profound  humility  connects  itself 
with  that  elasticity  and  joyousness  of  spirit  without 
which  a  successful  warfare  against  temptation  is  out  of 
the  question.  Constant  disappointment  is  very  wear- 
ing to  the  mind,  and  sure  to  break  the  energies  of  a 
man ;  but  if  he  has  flung  himself  down  so  low  that  he 
cannot  be  disappointed,  if  he  has  fairly  given  up  his 
own  heart  as  incorrigible — which  indeed  it  is — and  is- 
looking  in  quite  another  quarter  for  the  requisite 
strength,  it  is  surprising  with  what  cheerfulness  and 
alacrity  he  picks  himself  up  after  he  falls,  wonderful 
what  a  bound  and  buoyancy  there  is  in  the  spirit  which 
can  truly  say  to  Christ,  and  only  to  Him,  *'  All  my 
fresh  springs  are  in  Thee." 

Yes  ;  "  All  my  fresh  springs  are  in  Thee !  "  Self- 
distrust  alone,  though  we  mnst  always  fail  without  it, 
will  never  by  itself  secure  victory ;  the  soul  which 
has  made  the  discovery  that  it  has  nothing  in  itself  to 
hang  upon,  must  hang  upon  Christ.  This  is  strongly 
and  strikingly  brought  out  in  the  narrative  on  which 
we  have  been  commenting.  It  was  not  till  St.  Peter's 
eye  was  caught  by  the  fury  of  the  elements,  by  the 
raving  wind,  by  the  boisterous  surge ;  it  was  not  until 
his  attention  was  diverted  from  the  Saviour,  that  he 
began  to   sink.     Had  he  steadily  kept  Christ  in  sight 


1 M .  I  and  Trust  in  Christ,  250 

all  through,  it  might  have  gono  well  with  him  to  tho 
oikl.  So  long  as  he  was  in  the  sliip,  his  thoughts  were 
engaged  with  the  majesty  and  power  of  liis  Lord,  who 
oould  oven  wallc  on  tho  waves ;  now  that  he  is  in  tho 
midst  of  the  trial  which  ho  had  courted,  his  mind  wan- 
(It-rs  to  his  own  danger,  and  his  faith  is  shaken. 

Now  here  comes  out  another  point  of  holy  policy  in 
tho  combat  with  temptations.  It  is  wise,  especially 
wlien  they  are  at  their  height,  never  to  look  them  full 
ill  the  faeo.  To  consider  their  suggestions,  to  debate 
with  them,  to  fight  it  out  with  them  inch  by  inch  in  a 
listed  field,  is  generally  speaking,  a  sure  way  to  fail. 
Turn  tho  mind  to  Christ  at  the  first  assault,  and  keep 
it  fixed  there  with  pertinacity,  until  this  tyranny 
l)e  overpast.  Consider  Ilim,  if  thou  wilt,  after  tho 
picture  here  presented  to  us.  Think  of  Ilim  as  One 
who  walked  amidst  Temptations  without  ever  being 
submerged  by  them,  as  of  oito  who  by  His  Grace  can 
enable  His  followers  to  do  the  same.  Think  of  Him  as 
calm,  serene,  firm,  majestic  amidst  the  most  furious 
agitations  and  turbulences  of  nature,  and  as  One  who 
can  endue  thy  heart  with  a  similar  stedfastncss. 
Think  of  Him  as  interceding  for  His  Church  on  the 
Mount  of  Glory,  as  watching  them  while  they  toil  in 
rowing  against  the  adverse  influences  which  beset  them 
round  about  upon  the  sea  of  life,  as  descending  on  tho 
wings  of  love  to  their  relief.  Think  of  Him  as  stand- 
ing close  by  thee  in  thy  immediate  neighbourhood, 
with  a  hand  outstretched  for  thy  support  as  soon  as 
\er  thou  lookest  towards  Him.  Remember  that  it  is 
nt  you  who  are  to  conquer,  but  He  who  is  to  conquer 
!  you  ;  and  accordingly,  "  even  as  the  eyes  of  servants 
wait  upon  the  hand  of  their  masters,  and  as  the  eyes  of 
a  maiden  upon  tho  hand  of  her  mistress,  even  so  let 


260  Fight  ivith  Distrust  in  Self  [paet 

your  eyes  wait  upon  Him,  until  He  have  mercy  upon 
you."  No  man  ever  fell  in  this  attitude  of*  expectant 
faith  :  he  falls  because  he  allows  himself  to  look  at  the 
temptation,  to  be  fascinated  by  its  attractiveness,  or 
terrified  by  its  strength.  One  of  the  greatest  Sermons 
in  our  language  is  on  the  expulsive  power  of  a  new 
affection,  and  the  principle  laid  down  in  that  Sermon 
admits  of  application  to  the  circumstances  of  which  we 
are  speaking.  There  can  be,  of  course,  no  temptation 
without  a  certain  correspondence  of  the  inner  man 
with  the  immediate  occasion  of  the  trial.  Now  do  you 
desire  to  weaken  this  correspondence,  to  cut  it  off,  and 
make  it  cease  ?  Fill  the  mind  and  heart  with  another 
affection,  and  let  it  be  the  affection  for  Christ  crucified. 
Thus  will  the  energies  of  the  soul,  which  will  not 
suffice  for  two  strong  actions  at  the  same  time,  be 
drawn  off  into  another  quarter  ;  and  besides,  the  great 
Enemy,  seeing  that  his  assaults  only  provoke  you  to  a 
continuous  exercise  of  Faith,  wdll  soon  lay  down  his 
arms  ;  and  you  shall  know  experimentally  the  truth  of 
those  words,  "  Above  all,  taking  the  shield  of  faith, 
wherewith  ye  shall  be  able  to  quench  all  the  fiery 
darts  of  the  wicked  one."  There  can  be  no  doubt 
that  this  counsel  of  looking  only  upon  Christ  in  the 
hour  of  temptation  will  be  most  needed  (if  our  con- 
sciousness and  mind  be  spared  us  to  the  end)  in  the 
critical  hour  when  flesh  and  heart  are  failing,  and  when 
Satan  for  the  last  time  is  permitted  'to  assault  our 
faith.  We  can  well  imagine  that  in  that  hour  doubts 
will  be  busily  instilled  of  Christ's  love  and  power, 
suorgestions  of  our  own  unfaithfulness  to  Him  in 
times  past,  and  questions  as  to  whether  He  will  now 
receive  us.  The  soul  will  then  possibly  be  scared  by 
terrors,  as  the  disciples  in  the  boat  were  scared  with 


III.]  and  IVusl  in  Christ.  -Ul 

the  thoughts  of  a  phantom,  and  will  tremble  in  appro 
liension  of  being  thrust  out  from  the  frail  bark  of  tho 
body  into  the  darkness,  uncertainty,  insecurity  of  the 
new  and  untried  element.  If  such  should  be  the 
experience  of  any  one  who  reads  these  pages,  let  him 
take  with  him  tliis  one  counsel  of  safety,  to  look  only 
to  Christ,  and  to  perish,  if  he  perishes,  at  His  feet ; 
K't  us  refuse  to  look  in  any  other  quarter,  let  us 
steadily  turn  away  our  eyes  from  tho  doubts,  tho 
painful  recollections,  tho  alarming  anticipations  which 
the  enemy  is  instilling.  Wo  are  not  proposing  to 
bo  saved  on  the  ground  of  any  righteousness  in  our- 
selves, or  in  any  other  way  than  by  free  Grace,  as 
undone  sinners;  then  let  those  words  bo  tho  motto 
of  the  tempest-tossed  soul,  "My  soul  hangcth  upon 
tlice;  thy  right  hand  hath  upholden  me;"  ay,  and 
let  it  bo  tho  motto  now,  in  hours  when  lesser  trials 
assault  us.  Let  us  make  proof  even  now  of  tho 
invincibility  of  the  shield  of  faith,  that  wo  may  bring 
it  forth  in  that  hour  with  greater  confidence  in  its 
power  to  shield  us.  And  the  hand  of  an  Infinite 
Love  shall  uphold  us  in  the  last,  as  it  has  done  in 
previous  ordeals,  and  the  prayer  shall  bo  answered, 
which  we  have  oflercd  so  often  over  the  grave  of  de- 
parted friends : 

"  Thou  knowest,  Lord,  the  secrets  of  our  hearts ; 
shut  not  Thy  merciful  ears  to  our  prayer ;  but  spare 
us,  Lord  most  holy,  O  God  most  mighty,  O  holy  and 
merciful  Saviour,  Thou  most  worthy  Judge  eternal, 
suffer  us  not,  at  our  last  houf,  for  any  pains  of  death, 
to  fall  fr(5m  Thee."  "  My  flesh  and  my  heart  faileth ; 
but  God  is  the  strength  of  my  heart,  and  my  portion 
for  ever."  «  0  thou  of  litUe  faith,  wherefore  didst 
thou  doubt  1  '* 


262  Fight  watchfuUy.  \  paijt 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

FIGHT,  WATCHFULLY 

**  Keep  thy  heart  with  all  diligence  :  for  out  of  it  are  the  issues 
of  lifey—PROY.  iv.  23. 

Our  translators  of  the  Bible,  in  their  attempt  to 
maintain  idiom,  have'  .  sometimes  sacrificed  vigour, 
"  Keep  thy  heart  with  all  diligence "  is  a  feeble 
expression  in  comparison  of  that  which  you  find  in  the 
margin  :  "  Keep  thy  heart  above  all  keeping.^^ — 
"  Above  all  keeping."  If  you  would  keep  the  apple 
of  the  eye  from  injury,  not  only  as  a  most  sensitive 
part  of  the  frame  and  one  most  liable  to  derangement, 
but  as  the  organ  of  the  highest  of  all  the  senses,  a 
sense  for  the  loss  of  which  not  thousands  of  gold  and 
silver  could  compensate ;  much  more  keep  thy  heart, 
so  delicate  a  thing  as  it  is,  so  susceptible  of  complete 
disorganization  from  the  mere  dust  of  an  evil  thought, 
so  precious  too,  as  being  that  organ  of  the  moral 
nature,  by  which  you  discern  and  apprehend  Divine 
truth.  If  you  would  keep  in  a  casket,  under  lock  and 
key,  a  jewel  fit  for  a  monarch's  diadem,  on  the  purchase 
of  which  a  nation's  wealth  has  been  expended ;  much 
more  keep  thy  heart,  for  whose  allegiance  such  an 
infinite  price  was  paid,  whose  sympathies  and  affections 
the  Son  of  God  bled,  and  agonized,  and  died  to  win, 
and  which  is  destined  to  be  a  jewel  in  His  Redemption- 
crown.  If  you  would  keep  as  a  most  sacred  deposit 
the  last  token  of  a  dying  parent's  love ;  much  more 
keep  thy  heart,  wliich  Christ,  the  Everlasting  Father, 


111.]  Fight  watchfully,  /f^  *^     ^  )  ,'^0^// 

having  purchased  it  with  His  own  Bkibd,  bcqueithc<l 
to  thee  for  thy  custody.  If  thou  wouV^  kocp  sonic 
outlying  fortress,  which  is  the  key  of  aNipl^aguered 
position,  placing  sentinels  at  every  approach,  afiH 
bidding  them  challenge  every  one  who  passes  in  and 
out ;  much  more  keep  thy  heart,  which  is  the  key  of 
the  character  and  conduct,  and  between  which  and  the 
outer  world  a  busy  correspondence  is  continually  being 
kept  up.  Finally, — for  our  precept  is  so  worded  that 
it  might  be  a  medical,  as  well  afe  a  moral  one, — if  thou 
wouldst  keep  thy  bodily  heart,  as  the  centre  of  the 
-ystem  of  the  body,  as  the  source  of  motion  and 
animation  to  the  whole  frame,  as  the  golden  bowl 
which  sends  forth  the  living  jets  of  the  blood  to  the 
extremities,  whence  with  freshening,  recreating  force 
they  fall  again  into  the  basin  ; — if  thou  wouldst  shield 
this  part  in  war,  covering  it  with  the  breastplate,  or 
with  hauberk's  twisted  mail  ;  much  more  keep  thy 
moral  or  spiritual  hearty  which  is  the  source  of  moral 
life*  and  whence  the  impulses,  affections,  sympathies, 
desires,  go  forth  towards  the  objects  or  persons  around 
thee,  and  return  again  with  new  life  into  thy  bosom. 
Ay,  if  there  be  a  thing  in  this  world,  which  should  be 
kept, — which  should  be  the  object  of  unsleeping, 
anxious  guardianship,  it  is  this  heart ; — "  Keep  thy 
heart  above  all  keeping  ;  for  out  of  it  are  the  issues  of 
life." 

We  are  now  upon  the  subject  of  the  resistance 
which  the  Christian,  in  his  daily  life,  has  to  offer  to 
Temptation.  "We  have  seen  in  previous  Chapters 
that  he  must  meet  Temptation  wisely,  cheerfully, 
sclf-distrustfuUy,  and  with  trust  in  Christ.  And  wo 
now  come  to  a  counsel  no  less  necessary  in  order  to 


264  Fight  watchfully.  [part 

ensure  success,  namely,  that  he  must  meet  it  watch- 
fully. "  Watch  and  pray,"  says  our  Blessed  Lord 
Himself,  "  that  ye  enter  not  into  temptation." 

It  must  be  evident,  even  to  Keason,  that  without 
this  precaution  of  watchfulness  over  the  heart,  every 
other  counsel  for  resisting  temptation  must  be  of  no 
avail.  This  will  be  seen  in  a  moment  from  one  of 
tlie  illustrations  which  has  been  already  employed. 
The  heart  is  the  key  of  the  entire  spiritual  position. 
Carry  the  heart,  and  you  carry  the  man.  Not  however 
that  the  dangers  of  the  heart  are  merely  external,  like 
the  dangers  of  a  fortress.  The  world  and  the  Devil 
would  not  be  such  formidable  foes,  if  they  had  nothing 
to  correspond  with  from  within ;  but  our  Saviour 
teaches  us  that  there  are  many  traitors  in  the  camp, 
with  whom  they  can  and  do  correspond.  "  From  with- 
in, out  of  the  heart  of  men,  proceed  evil  thoughts,  adul- 
teries, fornications,  murders,  thefts,  covetousness,  wick- 
edness, deceit,  lasciviousness,  an  evil  eye,  blasphemy, 
pride,  foolishness  :  all  these  evil  things  come  from 
within,  and  defile  the  man." 

It  is  also  to  be  noticed,  in  forming  an  estimate 
of  our  danger,  that  the  exports  and  imports  of  the 
heart  are  exceedingly  numerous.  What  a  fertility 
of  thought,  sentiment,  impression,  feeling,  is  there 
in  the  heart  of  a  single  man !  It  is  like  an  inn  or 
hostelry ; — there  are  every  instant  fresh  arrivals  and 
fresh  departures.  There  are  a  thousand  doors  of  access 
to  the  heart, — conversation,  books,  incidents,  means  of 
grace,  all  the  five  senses ;  and  passengers  are  busily 
thronging  in  and  passing  out  at  every  door.  Some 
of  these  passengers  are  bent  on  doing  mischief,  on 
soiling  the  chambers,  and  throwing  them  into  disorder ; 
some   on  doing  good,  and   setting   things   to   right; 


n  I  I  Fight  watchfully,  205 

questionable  ;  some,  though  much  fewer 
tliaii  is  gonorally  supposed,  indifferent.  Now  will  any 
precaution,   short   of  watchfulness   over   the   persons 

llowed  to  enter, avail  to  keep  such  a  house  in  order? 
\o!    we   must  require   testimonials   that  those  who 

laim  adnuttanco  are  respectable.  The  sentinels  must 
l»e  at  their  posts  in  the  fortress,  and  demand  the 
password  from  all  who  cross  their  beat ;  or  the  gen- 
i  ral  will  lay  his  schemes  in  vain,  and  the  garrison 
will  be  well  victualled  in  vain,"  and  the  poor  soldiers 
will  fight  and  bleed  in  vain.  Bravery,  and  wisdom, 
and  good  supplies,  will  all  be  of  no  avail,  unless  active 
^tops  are  taken,  to  see  that  traitors  are  not  prowling 

bout  the  camp,  ready  to  fire  the  fortress,  to  open 
the  gates,  or  to  suggest  treacherous  counsel.  As  a 
matter  of  course,  to  dismiss  the  figure,  unless  we 
keep  a  guard  and  narrow  outlook  upon  our  hearts, 
wo  may  find  at  any  moment  that  wc  have  "  entered 
into  temptation,"  that  is,  have  entertained  it  with* 
the  will,  that  we  are  fairly  launched  on  the  slippery 
incline  which  leads,  it  may  be,  to  a  very  grievous  fall. 
What  various  and  rapid  movements  take  place  in 
our  minds  in  the  midst  of  a  warm  and  animated 
conversation  !  Can  there  be  any  security  for  us  unless 
^\o  watch  and  question  them  as  they  arise?  This 
moment  our  vanity  is  piqued;  at  another  a  desire 
to  say  something  smart  at  the  expense  of  charity,  or 

>mething  witty  at  the  expense  of  reverence,  or  some- 
'  iiing  entertaining  at  the  expense  of  truth,  or  some- 
thing coarse  at  the  expense  of  purity,  runs  away  with 
us,  and  we  are  far  on  our  road  towards  sin, — if  indeed 
we  have  not  already  arrived  there, — before  we  can 
I'ick  up  the  rein  and  check  the  steed.  Then  we  are 
I'lovuked  not  to  be  fair  in  argument,  but  factious; 
12 


266  Fight  watchfully.  [paet 

then,  perhaps,  to  worldly  compliance  with  the  opinion 
of  the  great,  the  popular,  the  many ;  then,  on  the 
other  hand,  we  are  prompted  to  speak  the  truth 
ungraciously,  without  courtesy  or  consideration  for 
others,  apologizing  to  ourselves  and  our  friends  for  it, 
by  saying  that  "  we  cannot  be  hypocrites,"  that  "  we 
always  say  what  we  think."  How  shall  we  keep  our 
foot  free  of  so  many  snares  1 

But  is  solitude  less  dangerous,  in  our  spiritual  war- 
fare, than  company  1  It  might  be  so,  doubtless,  if  the 
world  were  the  only  source  of  temptations,  if  they  did 
not  arise'equally  from  self  and  from  the  Devil.  But  it 
is  clear  that,  from  the  two  latter  foes,  who  beset  the 
Christian  no  less  than  the  former,  we  cannot  be  safe 
any  more  in  solitude  than  in  company.  Self  is  with  us, 
and  the  Devil  may  be  with  us  too,  in  the  closet,  as  well 
as  in  the  social  gathering.  Castle-building,  with  all  its 
odious  train  of  self-flatteries  and  self-complacencies ;  the 
fretting  over  any  little  wound  which  our  vanity  may 
have  received,  until  it  begins  to  fester  and  look  serious  ; 
the  mental  aggravation  of  a  slight  or  insult,  by  allow- 
ing the  thoughts  to  dwell  on  it,  until  it  fills  the  field  of 
view  in  a  manner  perfectly  absurd ;  the  discomposure 
about  worldly  cares,  which  is  alv/ays  increased  by  soli- 
tary pbndering.  of  them ;  and  last,  not  least,  the  vain 
conceit  that  because  prayer  has  been  oflfered  quietly, 
and  temper  has  been  dormant,  and  the  tongue  closed, 
that  therefore  a  great  victory  has  been  won  over  the 
inner  man,  or,  in  other  words,  that  sin  has  been  over- 
come, because  it  has  been  latent :  all  these,  together 
with  many  coarser  and  baser  thoughts  which  I  need 
not  mention,  are  the  temptations  of  solitude  ;  and  the 
moment  we  pass  out  of  the  sight  and  hearing  of  men, 
we  enter  into  this  new  circle  of  snares. 


III.]  Fight  watchfully.  207 

The  remedy,  and,  under  God's  Grace,  the  only 
remedy,  whether  in  solitude  or  company,  is  to  "  watch," 
— to  *'  guard,'*  as  far  as  in  us  lies,  "  the  first  springs  of 
thought  and  will."  Let  us  pray  and  strive  for  the  habit 
of  challenging  our  sentiments,  and  making  them  give 
up  their  passport ;  eyeing  them  wistfully  when  tViey  ap- 
ply for  admittance,  and  seeking  to  unmask  those  which 
have  a  questionable  appearance.  Wo  shall  find  it  useful 
to  have  one  or  two  periods  of  the  day  for  distinct  re- 
collection of  the  secrets  of  the  inner  man,  when  the 
question,  after  seeking  light  of  the  Lord,  will  be, 
"  What  have  been  the  derangements  of  the  heart,  and 
what  has  been  the  cause  of  them?"  Whatever  they 
may  have  been,  we  must  not  for  a  moment  be  discour- 
aged by  them,  but  simply  saying  to  the  Lord,  that  such 
falls  were  to  be  expected  from  us,  and  that  they  would 
have  been  much  worse,  had  not  His  Grace  upheld  us, 
we  must  ask  Ilim  once  more  to  do  that  which  belongs 
to  Him,  forgive  our  sins,  and  raise  us  up  again,  and 
give  us  grace  no  more  to  offend  His  Divine  Majesty. 
After  which  we  must  begin  our  course  anew,  as  if  wo 
had  never  fallen,  with  this  anthem  in  our  mouths,  "All 
my  fresh  springs  shall  be  in  Thee."  The  oftener  we 
can  manage  to  make  these  retirements  into  our  own 
hearts,  and  these  renewals  of  our  good  intentions,  the 
more  spiritually  prosperous  will  our  course  be.  For 
be  it  remembered  that  it  is  by  a  constant  series  of  new 
starts  that  the  spiritual  life  is  carried  on  within  us. 
The  waste  of  animal  life  is  repaired,  not  once  for  all, 
but  continually,  by  food  and  sleep ;  and  the  spiritual 
life,  a  far  more  delicate  thing,  must  perforce  waste  and 
decay  under  the  exposure  to  many  adverse  influences, 
to  which  it  is  subjected  in  the  world.  It  too  requires 
therefore  continually  to   repair  its  .forces.     It  is  not 


268  Fight  watchfully.  [pabi 

nereby  meant  that  the  true  Christian  is  constantly  fall« 
ing  into  grievous  or  outward  sin.  We  are  speaking  of 
the  spiritual,  not  of  the  carnal  man.  And  by  every 
spiritual  man  an  attempt  is  made  to  bring  the  region 
of  the  heart, — the  motives,  desires,  affections, — under 
the  sceptre  of  Christ.  And  he  who  makes  this  at- 
tempt sincerely,  soon  finds  that  where  there  has  been 
nothing  faulty  in  the  conduct,  the  fine  glass  of  the 
conscience  has  either  taken  a  tarnish  from  the  vapours 
of  our  natural  corruption,  or  that  the  blacks  of  the 
world  have  settled  down  upon  it.  The  only  counsel 
under  such  circumstances  is,  "  Eub  it  bright  again  with 
the  Blood  and  Spirit  of  Christ,  and  proceed  with  san- 
guine energy." 

It  will  be  found  that  all  the  more  grievous  falls  of 
the  tempted  soul  come  from  this, — that  the  keeping  of  the 
heart  has  been  neglected,  that  the  evil  has  not  been  nip- 
ped in  the  bud.  We  have  allowed  matters  to  advance 
to  a  question  of  conduct, — "  Shall  I  say  this,  or  not  say 
it  ?  "  "  Do  this,  or  not  do  it  ?  "  Whereas  the  stand 
should  have  been  made  higher  up,  and  the  ground  dis- 
puted in  the  inner  man.  As  if  the  mere  restraint  upon 
outward  conduct,  without  the  homage  of  the  heart  to 
God's  Law,  could  avail  us  aught,  or  be  any  thing  else 
than  an  offensive  hypocrisy  in  the  eyes  of  the  Heart- 
searcher  !  As  if  Balaam's  refraining  from  the  maledic- 
tion of  the  lipS;^  while  his  heart  was  going  after  his  cov- 
etousness,  could  be  acceptable  to  the  Almighty ! 
Balaam,  being  an  inspired  and  divinely-commissioned 
man,  dared  not  disobey ;  for  he  knew  too  well  what 
would  be  the  result  of  such  an  abuse  of  his  supernatural 
gifts.  But  we,  if,  like  Balaam,  we  have  allowed  to  evil 
a  free  range  over  our  hearts,  are  sure  to  disobey  when  it 
comes  to  a  question  of  conduct^  not  being  restrained  by 


in.]  Fiffhi  watchfully,  ^209 

the  fear  of  miraculous  punishment,  which  alone  held 
hi  in  back.  There  is  therefore  no  safety  for  us  except 
in  nialviiig  our  stand  at  the  avenues  of  the  will,  and  re- 
jecting at  once  every  questionable  impulse.  And  this, 
it  is  obvious,  cannot  be  done  without  watchfulness  and 
self-recollection, — without  a  continual  bearing  in  mind 
•where,  and  what  wo  are,  and  that  wo  have  a  treasure  in 
our  keeping,  of  which  our  focis  seek  to  rob  us.  Endeav 
our  to  make  your  heart  a  little  sanctuary,  in  which  you 
may  continually  realize  the  Presence  of  God,  and  from 
which  unhallowed  thoughts,  and  even  vain  thoughts 
must  carefully  bo  excluded. 

But  can  our  own  endeavours,  essential  though  the) 
be  to  success,  bring  about  of  themselves  this  most  de- 
sirable consummation  1  Our  Saviour  teaches  us  better. 
"  Watch,"  says  He,  "  lest  ye  enter  into  temptation ;  ^ 
but  ends  not  the  precious  counsel  here.  He  gives  to 
His  Word  on  this  occasion,  that  many-sidedness  of 
truth,  for  which  all  His  words  are  so  remarkably  dis- 
tinguished, and  which  so  contrasts  with  the  one-sided- 
ness  of  mere  human  teaching :  "  Watch  and  pray  ^  that 
ye  enter  not  into  temptation."  The  sentinel  must  bo 
at  his  post,  no  doubt,  and  must  be  wakeful  at  his  post 
if  the  city  is  to  be  kept ;  but,  nevertheless,  "  except  the 
Lord  keep  the  city,  the  watchman  waketh  but  in  vain." 
Man  must  give  his  exertion,  no  doubt ;  but  he  must 
never  lean  upon  it ;  for  that  would  be  leaning  upon  the 
staff  of  a  bruised  reed.  Now  Prayer  is,  or  ought  to 
be,  the  expression  of  human  dependence  upon  God, — 
the  throwing  ourselves  upon  His  protecting  Wisdom, 
and  Power,  and  Love.  And  therefore,  when  Our  Sav- 
iour counsels  us  to  unite  prayer  with  watching.  Ho 
counsels  us  to  throw  ourselves  upon  God,  under  a  sense 
of  our  own  weakness  and  total  insufficiency.    And 


270  Fight  watchfully.  [p.\in 

ly  there  is  enough  in  what  has  been  said  respectin  g  the 
difficulty  of  keeping  the  heart,  to  engender  such  a  sense 
of  weakness.  This  throng  of  thoughts  which  is  .contin- 
ually passing  in  and  out,  how  shall  we  dream  of  exam- 
ining, trying,  judging  them  all  except  by  a  special  Di- 
vine interference  in  our  behalf?  Divine  Power  can 
qualify  a  man  for  any  thing ;  but  nothing  short  of  Di- 
vine Power  can  qualify  him  for  a  task  so  onerous  as  this. 
To  God,  then,  let  us  commit  the  keeping  of  our  souls, 
in  the  most  absolute  self-distrust.  And  if  this  self  dis- 
trust is  any  thing  short  of  absolute,  we  may  expect 
that  constant  falls  will  attend  our  best  endeavours, 
whose  effect,  if  God  bless  them,  shall  be  to  beat  us 
thoroughly  out  of  this  fault.  It  is  a  great  attainment 
to  be  able  honestly  to  say  to  the  Lord,  really  and  deep- 
ly meaning  what  we  say  :  "  Lord,  I  am  quite  unable 
to  keep  my  heart  myself,  and  have  proved  myself  so 
by  many  humbling  falls,  in  which  my  adversary  has 
made  me  bite  the  dust ;  but  Thou  art  able  to  keep  me 
from  falling,  and  to  present  me  faultless  before  the  pre- 
sence of  Thy  Glory  with  exceeding  joy  ;  and  to  Thee 
therefore  I  commit  the  keeping  of  my  soul,  simply 
watching,  as  Thou  hast  bidden  me,  and  leaving  all  the 
rest  to  Thee." 

He  who  can  say  this  shall  have  Christ  dwelling  in 
his  heart  by  faith ;  and  this  indwelling  shall  be  a  sure 
preservative  against  evil  thoughts;  and  in  that  heart, 
though  agitated  on  the  surface,  there  shall  be  a  peace- 
which  it  has  never  known  before. 

In  the  inn  of  Bethlehem  there  were  many  going  to 
and  fro,  and  much  hurry  and  disquietude,  while  car- 
avans were  unlading  or  making  up  their  complement 
of  passengers,  and  the  divan  presented  a  spectacle  of 
many  costumes,  and  resounded  with  wrangling,  and 


III.]  The  high  Preroifative  of  Svffering.  271 

barter,  and  merriment  But  in  a  stable  hard  by  there 
\as  a  tender  joy  too  deep  for  words,  and  a  stillness  of 
iJoration  which  seemed  to  shut  out  the  outer  world*; 
Mr  Mary  had  brought  forth  her  Firstborn  Son  and  laid 
llim  in  the  manger,  and  her  heart  and  tliat  of  Joseph 
were  full  to  overflowing,  and  angels  were  gazing  down 
from  above  on  the  mystery  of  the  Holy  Incarnation. 

The  soul  of  man  is  a  noisy  hostelry,  fuH  of  turmoil 
and  disquietude,  and  giving  entertainment  to  every 
Nain  and  passing  thought  which  seeks  admittance  there. 
lUit  when  Christ  comes,  and  takes  up  His  abode  in  the 
heart,  He  reduces  it  to  order  and  peace ;  and  though 
it  may  move  amid  the  excitements  and  confusions  of 
life,  yet  hath  it  an  inner  stillness  which  they  c^innot 
disturb  or  destroy ;  for  the  King  of  Peace  is  there,  and 
Peace  is  the  purchase  of  His  Cross,  and  the  last  legacy 
-  f  His  Love  and  His  ancient  promise  to  His  people ; 
tor  so  it  is  written, — "  He  hath  made  peace  through  the 
Blood  of  His  Cross  ; "  "  Peace  I  leave  with  you  ;  my 
peace  I  give  unto  you  ;  " — "  Thou  wilt  keep  him  in 
perfect  peace,  whoso  mind  is  stayed  on  Thee,  because 
he  trusteth  in  Thee." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

TH£^  HIGH  PBEBOGATIVE  OF  BUFFEEINa. 

"  Verily,  verily^  I  toy  unto  thee.  When  thou  wut  young,  thou 
yirdcdat  thyself,  and  vcalkcdst  rchither  thou  toouldest :  but  when 
thou  shalt  be  old,  thou  tlialt  stretch  forth  thyJiande,  and  anotJier 
shall  gird  thee,  and  carry  thee  xchither  thou  tcotddcst  not.  Tliis 
spake  he,  signifying  by  what  death  lie  should  glorify  God,  And 
Klten  he  had  spoken  this,  he  saith  unto  him.  Follow  meJ" — John 
xxi.  18,  19. 

Is  these  words  our  Lord  predicts  the  death  of  St.  Peter. 
In  his  old  age  the  Apostle  was  to  be  crucified,  made  to 


272  The  high  Prerogative  of  Suffering,       [rAKl 

stretch  forth  his  hands  upon  the  transverse  beam  of 
the  cross,  and  girded  (or  lashed  round  the  waist)  to  the 
instrument  of  torture  by  a  cord.  Tradition  says  that 
he  was  crucified,  at  his  own  request,  with  his  head 
downwards ;  in  that  case,  the  girding,  or  tying  tightly, 
to  the  cross  would  probably  be  necessary,  by  way  of 
keeping  the  body  of  the  sufferer  in  its  right  position. 
In  the  ordinary  mode  of  crucifixion,  to  which  Our 
Blessed  Lord  was  subjected,  the  body  rested,  not,  as  is 
often  erroneously  supposed,  upon  the  hands  and  feet, 
but  upon  a  seat  projecting  from  the  middle  of  the  cross ; 
but  when  the  cross  was  inverted,  the  body  would  have 
no  such  rest,  and  it  would  then  become  necessary  to  fix 
it  in  another  manner  by  a  tight  ligament.  This  is  in 
all  probability  the  reference  of  the  words,  "  another 
shall  gird  thee,"  though  perhaps  some  will  prefer  to  see 
in  them  nothing  more  than  an  allusion  to  the  binding 
of  the  Apostle  previously  to  his  being  led  away  to 
execution. 

But  putting  aside  their  original  and  literal  meaning, 
the  words  lend  themselves  very  well  to  a  secondary 
application.  They  may  be  regarded  as  a  striking 
parable  of  human  life  in  its  two  great  periods  of  youth 
and  old  age.  Youth  is  full  of  enterprise,  energy,  hope, 
vigour ;  prompt  in  forming  schemes,  and  active  in  car- 
rying them  into  execution ;  when  emaneipated  from 
the  restraints  of  boyhood,  it  exults  in  its  independence, 
and  feels  that  it  is  the  master  of  its  own  destiny : 
"  When  thou  wast  young,  thou  girdedst  thyself,  and 
walkedst  whither  thou  wouldest."  But  old  age  is  the 
season  of  helplessness  and  dependence ; — "  another  "  is 
called  in  to  perform  the  most  necessary  offices,  and  to 
supply  our  lack  of  service  towards  our  own  failing 
frames  ;  the  very  old  have  to  be  led,  fed,  apparelled  by 


III.]  The  high  Prerogative  of  Suffering,  273 

others,  and  the  end  is,  that  thoy  are  carried  whither 

(according  to  the  flesh)  man  cannot  but  slirink  from 
going,  and  laid,  in  all  the  wealcness  and  dishonour  of 
death,  in  the  plot  of  consecrated  earth  which  lies  around 
the  church.  "  But  when  thou  shalt  be  old,  thou  shalt 
stretch  forth  thy  hands,  and  another  shall  gird  thee,  and 
carry  thee  whither  thou  wouldcst  not." 

We  are  now  considering  the  Christian  life  in  its 
practicjil,  as  distinct  from  its  devotional  aspect ;  the 
phases  of  that  aspect  of  it  are,  as  we  have  seen,  three : 
— acting,  fighting,  suflering.  Wo  have  given  some 
counsels  on  the  Christian's  work,  and  on  the  Christian's 
temptations,  and  our  plan  now  requires  that  we  should 
say  something  of  those  occasions,  on  which  his  great 
duty  is  to  lie  passive  in  the  hands  of  God. 

1.  We  remark,  first,  tliat  suflcring  in  all  its  forms  w, 
and  should  he  looked  upon  as  being,  a  vocation.  There 
are  many,  and  these  real  Christians,  persons  interested 
in  God's  Service,  who  regard  suffering  in  a  shallow, 
superficial  point  of  view,  as  an  interference  with  their 
vocations,  and  consequently  miss  all  the  golden  oppor- 
tunities of  growth  in  grace  and  knowledge  which  it  holds 
out.  Their  plan  of  life  is  put  out  of  joint,  and,  as  it 
appears,  their  usefulness  impeded,  by  some  accident  or 
some  grievous  sickness ;  their  activity  is  at  an  end,  or 
at  an  end  for  a  time, — quietness  is  imposed  upon  them 
as  a  condition  of  life,  or  of  re<JOvery ;  they  chafe  and 
fret  at  a  restraint,  because,  as  they  themselves  put  it, 
they  are  precluded  from  actively  doing  good.  Now 
what  does  this  fretting  indicate  %  What  but  this,  that 
they  love  not  the  Will  of  God,  but  merely  the  satis- 
faction which  accrues  in  the  natural  order  of  things 
from  the  consciousness  of  doing  good  to  others  ?  and  to 
cling  to  this  satisfaction  is  only  a  higher  form  of  self* 


274  The  high  Prerogative  of  Suffering,       [pakt 

love, — not  the  love  of  God.     The  truth  is  that  God,  in 
sending   them   the  sickness  or  the  accident,  has  been 
pleased   in  His  Wisdom   and   Love  to  change  their 
vocation,  and,  if  minded  to  be  really  loyal  to  His  Will, 
they  must  accommodate  and  familiarize  themselves  to 
the  idea,  not  that  their  occupation  is  gone,  but  simply 
that  it  is  altered.     As  an  illustration,  let  us  imagine 
the  conduct  of  a  campaign  by  the  commander-in-chief 
of  the  forces  of  an  empire.      No  one  but  he  himself  is 
in  full  possession  of  his  plans :  he  has  laid  his  schemes 
with  deep  foresight,  and  with   the    most  ^correct   cal- 
culation of  contingencies,  but  communicates  the  whole 
of  them  to  no  subordinate.     Advices  from  home,  and 
from  the  generals  of  detachments  are  arriving  all  day 
long  at  head-quarters,  and  despatches  are  as  continually 
going  out ;  but  no  one  knows  any  more  of  the  contents 
than  concerns  his  own  position   and   duties.      Many 
lookers  on,  who  cannot  see  the  whole  game,  misjudge 
the   commander.      There  is  an  outcry  that  he  risked 
unfairly,  in  an  enterprise  almost  desperate,  the  lives  of 
a  small  party  :  but  the  real  truth  is,  as  men  would  see 
if  they  could  but  know  the  whole,  that  this  risk  was 
absolutely  essential  to  the  safety  of  the  entire  force,  and 
that  by  the  exposure  of  a  score  of  men  to  fearful  odds 
the  lives  of  twenty  thousand  have  been  secured.     Let 
us  now  suppose  that  suddenly  some   officer  is  com- 
manded to  hold  himself  and  his  troop  in  readiness  to 
undertake  some  important  manoeuvre, — to  go  up  into 
a  breach,  or  to  storm  a  fortress,  or  to  meet  and  cut  off 
an   enemy's   supplies :    suppose   that   this    enterprise 
exactly  suits  both  the  capacities  and  inclination  of  the 
man  on  whom  it  is  devolved  ;  that  there  is  room  in  it 
for  the  display  of  powers  which  he  is  conscious  of  pos- 
sessing ;  that  it  gives  him  just  the  opportunity  which 


ui.]  The  high  Prerorjative  of  Suffering,  275 

ho  coveted,  of  achieving  distinction.  lie  is  making  his 
preparations  with  all  sanguineness,  and  anticipating  the 
final  order  to  depart,  when,  lo  !  the  order  arrives,  but  it 
j>eremptorily  alters  his  destination  ;  ho  is  not  to  bo  of 
the  storming  party,  ho  is  to  go  into  a  secluded  dingle 
with  his  men,  far  out  of  the  way  of  tho  operations,  and 
there  lie  still,  and  send  out  scouts  to  make  observations 
of  the  country,  and  report.  It  is  a  hard  trial  to  one  who 
was  girding  himself  for  activo  service,  and  longing  for 
an  opportunity  for  displaying  prowess  and  forethought ; 
and  it  is  difficult  to  bear,  just  in  proportion  as  there  is 
room  to  doubt  the  wisdom  of  tho  commander's  general 
arrangements,  and  his  considerateuess  for  the  individual 
officer  whoso  destination  ho  thus  arbitrarily  changes. 
But  supposing  these  to  be  beyond  all  question  :  sup- 
posing that  hitherto  the  most  consummate  skill  had 
been  shown  in  every  arrangement  of  the  campaign,  and 
that  on  many  previous  occasions  the  general  had  shown 
the  very  kindest,  and  even  the  most  afiectionate  regard 
to  tho  interests  of  this  particular  officer  1  Would  it 
then  be  found  impossible,  or  even  difficult,  to  reconcile 
the  mind  to  such  a  disposition  of  things  ?  Surely  not, 
when  once  cool  reflection  had  succeeded  to  the  sting  of 
the  disappointment.  And  when  our  Heavenly  Father 
changes  our  whole  plan  of  life  by  His  providential 
despatches,  and  virtually  sends  us  the  order,  "  Lie  still ; 
and  let  another  gird  and  carry  thee  instead  of  thy 
girding  thyself,  and  walking  on  Mine  errands  *  whither 
thou  wouldest ; ' "  shall  wo  venture  even  to  remonstrate, 
when  we  are  assured  by  the  testimony  of  His  Word 
thjit  both  His  Wisdom  and  His  caro  for  us  are  un- 
bounded %  and  when  our  own  experience  of  life,  brief  as 
it  has  been,  re-echoes  this  testimony  1    Ah !  to  love  Grod 


276  The  high  Prerogative  of  Suffering,       [paei 

is  to  embrace  His  Will  when  it  runs  counter  to  our 
inclinations,  as  well  as  when  it  jumps  with  them. 

What  has  been  said  applies  quite  as  much  to  those 
thousand  trifling  occasions  of  every-day  life  on  which 
our  little  plans  a^e  disconcerted,  as  to  the  serious 
interference  which  sickness  makes  in  larger  schemes. 
We  are  too  much  wedded  to  our  plans,  whether  they 
be  plans  for  a  life,  or  plans  for  a  day  or  an  hour ; — 
too  little  loyal  at  heart  to  the  Will  of  God.  And 
hence  arises  great  uneasiness  and  discomposure  of 
mind,  which,  from  whatever  source  it  arises,  caunot 
fail  to  be  prejudicial,  and  a  hindrance  to  the  spiritual 
life.  We  have  set  apart,  it  may  be,  such  an  hour 
of  the  day  for  the  purpose  of  devotion  or  study.  But 
just  as  we  were  about  to  spend  it  so,  some  call  of 
necessity  or  charity  arises  in  another  direction.  In 
either  case,  whether  it  be  of  necessity  or  charity, 
it  is  God's  call ;  and  not  our  duty  only,  but  our 
happiness,  lies  in  responding  to  it  cheerfully  and 
lovingly.  We  must  be  ready  to  go  out  of  our  way, 
if  God  calls  us  out  of  our  way,  or,  in  other  words, 
to  have  our  little  plans  so  modified  and  corrected, 
as  to  be  brought  into  the  scheme  of  His  great 
and  all-wise  plan.  It  is  every  way  better  to  do  what 
God  intends  for  us,  than  what  we  intend  for  ourselves. 
Our  Blessed  Lord  on  a  certain  occasion  was  stedfastly 
bent  upon  raising  the  dead ;  but  as  He  was  passing  to 
the  house  where  the  deceased  maid  lay,  an  interruption 
arose.  A  poor  woman  with  an  issue  of  blood  crept 
up  behind  Him,  and,  touching  the  hem  of  His  garment, 
stole  from  Him  a  cure.  Willingly  and  graciously 
does  Our  Lord  stop  upon  His  way,  and  take  up  the 
episode  into  the  marvellous  poem  of  His  Life      He 


en.]  The  high  Prerogative  of  Suffering,  277 

makes  tho  poor  woman  discover  herself,  and  draws 
from  her  a  public  acknowledgment  of  her  cure.  And 
not  until  lie  has  dismissed  her  with  a  gracious  word 
of  encouragement  docs  lie  pass  on  to  fulfil  His  original 
intention.  It  is  a  great  lesson  as  to  the  spirit  which 
wo  should  cultivate,  when  it  pleases  God  to  disconcert 
or  interrupt  our  designs. 

But  to  recur  to  tho  point.  Regard  suffering,  even 
in  its  slighter  forms,  as  a  vocation,  having  its  special 
duties,  and  oflering  its  special  grace.  Say  secretly  of 
it, — "  Hero  for  tho  present  lies  thy  allotted  task,  O  my 
soul ;  consider  how  much  may  be  made  of  this  period  : 
how  largely  it  may  be  improved  to  God's  Service  and 
thy  salvation.  It  is  tho  post  to  which  thou  art  appoint- 
ed :  seek  to  occupy  it  faithfully  and  bravely ;  and  more 
good  shall  accrue  to  thee  from  it  than  from  what  thou 
didst  propose  to  thyself  as  the  line  of  service  of  thino 
own  choosing." 

But  may  we  not  say  something  more  of  suffering 
than  merely  that  it  is  a  vocation  ?  May  we  not  say 
of  it,  that  it  is  the  highest  of  all  vocations  ?  We 
might  augur  thus  much  from  the  fact,  that  under 
ordinary  circumstances,  the  close  of  tho  Christian 
life  rather  than  its  beginning  is  characterized  by 
suflforing.  As  a  general  rule,  the  sick  bed  is  tho 
scene  upon  which  the  curtain  falls.  And  we  might 
naturally  expect  that  God  would  reserve  to  tho  last 
that  .dispensation  by  which  the  character  of  His 
children  is  to  be  most  highly  purified  and  exalted ; — 
that  He  would  call  them  to  the  sublimest  and  most 
elevating  of  trials  at  the  end  of  their  career,  when, 
having  been  proved  in  lesser  matters,  they  had  been 
found  faithful.  We  find  in  our  text  an  intimation 
that  this  was  tho  case  with   St.  Peter.     If  any  one 


278  The  high  Prerogative  of  Suffering.        [pari 

ever  glorified  God  by  active  service,  undertaken  with 
love  and  zeal,  surely  it  was  St.  Peter  and  his  great 
colleague,  the  Apostle  of  the  Gentiles.  St.  Peter  was 
the  chief  pillar  of  the  early  Church ;  his  energy  and 
his  gift  of  government  were  the  main  props  of  her 
administration,  before  St.  Paul  appeared.  He  was 
God's  prime  agent  in  the  spread  of  the  Gospel  among 
the  people  of  the  circumcision.  Yet  not  one  word 
is  here  said  of  the  glorification  of  God,  in  connexion 
with  St.  Peter's  active  days.  -The  spread  of  Christ's 
Kingdom  through  his  preaching  and  his  rule  is  passed 
over  in  silence.  The  Evangelist  speaks  of  his  cruci- 
fixion— when  those  limbs,  once  so  full  of  vigour,  so 
prompt  to  move  in  the  Master's  Service,  were  fettered ; 
and  when  his  body  was  bound  fast  to  the  accursed  tree, 
as  the  period,  when  God  reaped  from  the  Apostle  a  great 
harvest  of  glory  ; — "  this  spake  he,  signifying  hy  what 
death  he  should  glorify  God." 

During  the  lifetime  of  God's  people,  the  graces 
with  which  He  endows  them  are  always  a  sweet 
savour  to  Him,  through  the  Intercession  of  Christ. 
But  in  a  holy  death  there  is  something  specially 
acceptable,  over  and  above  that  which  there  is  in  a  holy 
life;  and  therefore  with  a  marked  emphasis  it  is 
written :  "  Right  dear  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord  is  the 
death  of  His  saints."  Now  what  is  Death  but  the 
crown  and  climax  of  human  sufferings'?  It  is  the 
trial  of  trials, — the  deepest  shadow  which  in  this  life  of 
shadows  falls  athwart  the  soul.  Can  a  man  acquiesce 
lovingly  in  this  trial, — cling  fast  to  God  when  this 
most  chill  of  all  shadows  falls  across  his  heart,  and 
believe  still  that  he  shall  be  brought  out  into  the 
sunlight  ■?  Then  this  is  a  glorious  test  of  the  faith  and 
of  the  grace  that  is   in  him.     God  delights   to  see 


III.]  The  hi</h  Prerogative  of  Suffering.  270 

i^raco  in  us  at  all  times ;  but  IIo  loves  not  to  see  it  la 
tout.  Ho  desire  sit  to  be  in  exercise.  And,  in  order  to 
bring  it  into  exercise,  Ho  uses  the  instrumentality  of 
>ii(TeriiiiT.  The  leaves  of  tlie  aromatic  plant  shed  but  a 
lUint  odour,  as  they  wave  in  the  air.  The  gold  shines 
scarcely  at  all,  as  it  lies  hid  in  the  ore.  The  rugged 
crust  of  the  pebble  conceals  from  the  eye  its  interior 
beauty. '  But  let  the  aromatic  leaf  be  crushed  ;  let  the 
ore  be  submitted  to  the  furnace  ;  let  the  pebble  be  cut 
and  polished  ;  and  the  fragrance,  the  splendour,  the  fair 
colours  are  then  brought  out : — 

"This  leaf?    This  stone?  It  is  thj heart : 
It  must  be  crushed  by  pain  and  smart, 
It  must  bo  cleansed  by  sorrow's  art — 
Ere  it  will  yield  a  fragrance  sweet, 
Ere  it  will  shine,  a  jewel  meet 
To  lay  before  thy  dear  Lord's  feet." 

Tlio  same  law  is  observable  in  spiritual  character, 
which  rules  the  formation  of  natural.  How  often  in 
a  smooth  and  easy  life  do  men,  who  have  something  far 
l)etter  beneath,  appear  selfish,  eflfeminate,  and  trifling ! 
Suddenly  they  are  thrown  into  some  position  of  high 
trust,  great  responsibility,  or  serious  danger; — are 
called  upon  to  fiice  an  enemy,  or  submit  to  the  hard- 
ships of  the  campaign ; — and  lo  !  the  character  shows 
a  stuff  and  a  fibre, — ay,  and  a  tenderness  for  others, — 
which  no  one  ever  gave  it  credit  for.  Resolute 
will,  dauntless  selfsacrifice,  considerateness,  show 
themselves,  where  before  we  could  see  nothing  but 
what  was  pliant  and  self  indulgent.  Trial  has  unmask- 
ed latent  graces  of  character;  and  although  spiritual 
character  is  a  thing  of  a  higher  order  than  natural, 
yet  it  is  developed  according  to  the  same  laws  of  the 
mind. 


280  The  high  Prerogative  of  Suffering.        [rAKa 

But  the  chief  reason  why  suffering  is  the  highest  of 
all  vocations,  is  that  in  suffering  so  close  a  conformity 
may  be  attained  to  Him,  who  is  the  highest  exemplifi- 
cation of  human  virtue.  The  heroes  of  Paganism  ex- 
emplified the  heroism  of  enterprise.  Patriotism,  chiv- 
alrous deeds  of  valour,  high-souled  aspirations  after 
glory,  stern  justice  taking  its  course  in  their  hands,  while 
natural  feeling  was  held  in  abeyance, — this  was  the  line 
in  which  they  shone.  Our  Blessed  Lord  illustrated  all 
virtues  indeed,  but  most  especially  the  passive  ones. 
His  heroism  took  its  colouring  from  endurance.  Wo- 
men, though  inferior  to  men  in  enterprise,  usually  come 
out  better  than  men  in  suffering ;  and  it  is  always  to 
be  remembered  that  Our  Blessed  Lord  held  His  Hu- 
manity, not  of  the  stronger,  but  of  the  weaker  sex. 
The  leading  idea  of  Him  is  the  patient  sufferer,  "  the 
lamb  dumb  before  its  shearers ;  " — not  till  after  His 
ascension  into  Heaven  is  He  represented  to  us  as 
"  the  Lion  of  the  tribe  of  Judah."  And  it  is  for  this 
among  other  reasons,  that,  while  the  Evangelists  notice 
different  parts  of  our  Lord's  History, — while  two  of 
them  are  wholly  silent  respecting  His  Infancy  and 
Childhood, — and  one  almost  silent  respecting  the 
Ministry  in  Galilee; — they  all  agree  in  portraying 
His  Death  with  great  minuteness.  Not  only  was  this 
Death  the  propitiation  for  the  sins  of  the  whole 
world,  and  therefore  the  most  important  of  all  events 
to  us,  but  also,  viewing  Christ  merely  as  an  Example, 
His  Death  expresses  far  more  of  His  Divine  Character 
than  His  Life.  What  should  we  know  of  Christ  com-, 
paratively — how  very  imperfectly  should  we  conceive 
of  Him — if  the  narratives  of  the  Cross  were  torn  out 
of  the  Book  of  the  Gospels  %  It  was  the  Cross  which 
(to  use  an  expression  we  should  not  dare  to  use,  unless 


111.]  Tlie  high  Prerogative  of  Suffering,  281 

an  Ap.'sllo  had  led  the  way)  perfooted  the  human 
diameter  of  Our  Lord ;  for  God  mado  the  "  Captain 
of  our  Salvation  perfect  through  Bufferings," — not 
perfect  in  the  sense  of  sinless,  for  that  Ho  was  from 
His  lufatjcy  upwards,  but  perfect  in  the  sense  in 
which  no  one  am  be  perfect,  who  has  not  submitted 
to  the  discipline  of  trial.  The  spotless  block  of  white 
marble  may  be  perfect,  in  the  sense  of  being  with- 
out a  flaw;  but  it  acquires  a  perfection  of  another 
sort,  when,  ailer  being  shaped  and  chiselled,  it  is  con- 
verted into  a  beautiful  vase,  fit  for  the  palace  of  a 
monarch.  The  Lord,  in  virtue  of  His  Humanity,  had 
a  will  which  shrunk  from  a  deprecated  suffering, — 
a  will  which  wo  see  in  operation,  when  those  words 
flow  from  Him  in  the  garden ;  "  Father,  if  it  be  pos- 
sible, let  this  cup  pass  from  Me."  This  will,  however, 
was  gradually  brought  round  into  complete  acquies- 
cence with  the  higher  will, — an  acquiescence  which  ex- 
presses itself  in  that  second  cry,  as  recorded  by  St. 
Matthew :  "  Father,  if  this  cup  may  not  pass  from 
Me,  except  I  drink  it,  Thy  will  be  done."  It  was  this  ac- 
quiescence which  gave  to  the  human  character  of  Christ, 
sinless  all  along,  an  exquisitely  finished  perfection, 
and  a  certain  beauty  of  maturity,  which  it  had  not 
before. 

It  is  to  conformity  with  Him  in  this  high  acquies- 
cence that  He  called  His  disciple,  St.  Peter,  when  Ho 
said  to  him,  "  Follow  Me."  He  had  told  him  that  he 
hhould  have  scope  to  follow,  in  a  suffering  similar  to 
His  own,  (for  St.  Peter  too  should  stretch  forth  his 
hands  upon  the  transverse  beam  of  the  cross,)  and  now 
He  tells  him  to  copy  His  spirit  in  suffering, — "  Follow 
Me." 

And  docs  He  not  tell  us  the  same  also  %    If  the 


282  The  high  Prerogative  of  Suffering,       [pari 

words  "  Tollow  Me  "  wero  addressed  specifically  to 
St.  Peter,  are  there  not  words  of  precisely  similar  im- 
port  addressed  to  all  disciples  to  the  end  of  time? 
Do  we  not  read,  "  If  any  man  will  come  after  Me,  let. 
him  deny  himself,  and  take  up  his  cross  daily,  and  fol- 
low Me  %  " 

Ah !  there  is  the  word  of  which  we  are  in  search,  to 
express  .the  agency  of  the  sufferer  in  this  matter, — 
"  take  up  his  cross."  It  might  not  be  very  clear  what 
the  agency  of  a  sufferer,  pinned  down  perhaps  to  a  bed 
of  pain, — upon  whom,  possibly,  silence  is  imposed, — 
could  be.  Such  an  one  can  do  nothing  in  man's 
estimation,  who  looketh  only  on  the  outward  appear- 
ance ;  but  in  God's  estimation,  who  looketh  on  the 
heart,  he  can  do  much.  He  has  a  moral  choice  left 
him, — a  will.  This  will  may  affirm  God's  will,  or 
reject  it.  While  no  option  is  left  us  as  to  bearing  the 
cross,  we  may  either  take  it  up,  or  strive  to  push  it  off". 
We  may,  on  the  one  hand,  harbour  the  thought  that 
we  are  hardly  dealt  with ;  or,  on  the  other,  we  may,  by 
enforcing  upon  ourselves  such  considerations  as  that 
God  is  a  tender  Father,  and  never  chastens  but  for  our 
profit ;  that  suffering  is  a  medicine,  remedial,  though 
bitter  ;  that  we  have  deserved  infinitely  more  than  is 
ever  laid  upon  us ;  and  that  there  is  no  real  satisfaction 
for  man  except  in  conformity  to  the  Divine  Will, — 
bring  round  the  mind  to  say  sincerely  (the  highest 
point  of  perfection  this,  which  human  character  can 
reach) : 

"  0  Lord,  mj  Qod,  do  Thou  Thy  holy  Will ! 

I  will  lie  still : 
I  will  not  stir,  lest  I  forsake  Thine  arm, 

And  break  the  charm, 
Which  lulls  me,  clinging  to  my  Father's  breast, 

In  perfect  rest." 


m.]  The  high  Prerogative  of  Suffering.  283 

\:v  we  striving  to  bring  our  minds  to  this  point, 
wlioii,  aiid  as,  God  calls  us  to  suffer  ?  Are  wo  daily 
practising  resignation  as  opportunity  offers  ?  By  a 
patient  and  loving  endurance  of  annoyances,  arc  wo 
]>reparing  ourselves  gradually  for  tho  discipline  of 
trials  ?  Christ  comes  to  us  morning  by  morning  to 
present  to  us,  fur  tho  day  then  opening,  divers  little 
crosses,  thwartings  of  our  owii  will,  interferences  with 
our  plans,  disappointments  of  our  little  pleasures.  Do 
we  kiss  them,  and  take  them  up,  and  follow  in  His 
rear,  like  Simon  the  Cyrenian?  Or  do  wo  toss  them 
from  us  scornfully  because  they  are  so  little ;  and 
wait  for  some  great  affliction  to  approve  our  patience 
and  our  resignation  to  His  Will  ?  Ah,  how  might  we 
accommodate  to  tho  small  matters  of  religion  generally 
those  words  of  the  Lord  respecting  tho  children,  "  Take 
heed  that  ye  despise  not  one  of  these  little  ones?" 
Despise  not  little  sins  ;  they  have  ruined  many  a  soul. 
Despise  not  little  duties ;  they  have  been  to  many  a 
saved  man  an  excellent  discipline  of  humility.  Despise 
not  little  temptations;  rightly  met  they  have  often 
nerved  the  character  for  some  fiery  trial.  And  despise 
not  little  crosses;  for  when  taken  up,  and  lovingly 
accepted  at  the  Lord's  hand,  they  have  made  men  meet 
for  a  great  crown,  even  the  crown  of  righteousness  and 
life,  which  the  Lord  hath  promised  to  them  that  love 
Him. 


284  Of  Recreation,  [pari 


CHAPTER    X. 

OF   EECEEATIOX. 

"  Whether  therefore  ye  eat,  or  drink,  or  whatsoever  ye  do,  do  all  to 
the  glory  of  God:'— I  Cor.  x.  31. 

"  St.  John  the  Evangelist,  as  Cassian  relates,  amusing 
"  himself  one  day  with  a  tame  partridge  on  his  hand, 
*'  was  asked  by  an  huntsman,  How  such  a  man  as  he 
"  could  spend  his  time  in  so  unprofitable  *a  manner  1 
"  to  whom  St.  John  replied.  Why  dost  thou  not  carry 
**  thy  bow  always  bent  1  Because,  answered  the  hunts- 
"  man,  if  it  were  always  bent,  I  fear  it  would  lose  its 
"  spring,  and  become  useless.  Be  not  surprised  then, 
"  replied  the  Apostle,  that  I  should  sometimes  remit  a 
"  little  of  my  close  attention  of  spirit  to  enjoy  a  little 
"  recreation,  that  I  may  afterwards  employ  myself  more 
"fervently  in  Divine  contemplation  \" 

Some  persons  might  be  disposed  to  think  Recreation 
too  light  a  subject  to  be  treated  in  a  work  on  Personal 
Religion.  But  let  it  be  considered  that  in  the  broad 
sense  of  the  term  (in  which  it  embraces  every  species 
of  refreshment  bodily  and  mental)  Recreation  must 
fjrm  an  integral  part  of  human  life.  Human  life,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  is  made  up  of  graver  and  lighter 
passages.  There  is  no  true  portraiture  of  it  which 
does  not  present  its  relief  and  recreations  alongside  of 
its  burdensome  pressure  and  cares.  Man's  mind  is  so 
constituted,  that  even  in  the  most  afflictive  circum- 
stances it  cannot  be  always  on  the  strain;  such  a 
strain  would  ultimately  break  the  mind.     So  it  seeks 

S.  Francois  de  Sales,  Vie  Devote. 


III.]  Of  Recreation,  285 

and  finds  a  safoty-valve  in  tho  lighter  pasMigcs  of  lifo, 
through  which  its  natural  elasticity  (for  it  is  wonder- 
fully  elastic)  vents  itself.  But  then,  if  this  bo  tho 
constitution  of  tho  human  mind,  and  therefore  of 
liuman  life,  which  is  but  tho  development  and  expres- 
sion of  the  human  mind,  our  reliefs,  no  less  than  our 
burdens,  must  como  within  tho  scope  of  true  religion. 
For  there  is  no  truth  more  certain  than  this,  that  reli- 
gion is  designed  to  leaven  our  xohole  life;  that  no  dis- 
trict of  life,  not  a  single  waking  hour,  is  to  be  excluded 
from  its  sanctifying  influences.  If  Recreation  is  a 
constituent  part  of  life,  Recreation  must  be  capable  of 
being  sanctified. 

We  do  not  give  Recreation  too  prominent  a  place 
in  the  religious  system,  when  we  say  that  it  is  for  the 
mind  what  sleep  is  for  the  body  of  man.  No  man's 
body  could  long  endure  the  stress  and  burden  of  daily 
life  without  sleep.  And  no  man's  mind  could,  as  I 
have  said,  long  endure  any  mental  pressure  without 
Recreation.  It  is  wonderful  what  the  body  gains  in 
sleep,  far  more  than  we  are  apt  to  suspect ;  what 
pontic  healing  influences  are  ministered  to  tho  animal 
1  imctions  of  this  dull  and  heavy  frame  by  that  "  soft 
nurse  of  nature,"  as  our  great  poet  so  beautifully  calls 
it.  It  is  often  said  of  infants  and  young  children,  that 
they  grow  much  faster  in  an  hour  of  sleep  than  in 
several  waking  hours, — the  truth  being,  I  suppose, 
that  sleep  is  an  imbibing  of  energy,  and  waking  ex- 
istence a  waste  or  expenditure  of  it.  And  surely  it 
is  no  less  wonderful  how  much  the  mind,  I  do  not  say 
docs,  but  may  gain  in  Recreation, — how  rapid  a 
growth  in  Grace  it  may  achieve  when  the  harness  of  a 
regular  pursuit  is  for  a  while  lifted  from  ofl*  its  neck, 
and  leisure  is  given  to  it  to  unbend    itself  at  will. 


286  Of  Recreation.  [part 

That  Recreation  is  frequently  and  cruelly  abused,  and 
leisure  allowed  to  degenerate  into  licence,  is  no  argu- 
ment whatever  against  its  possible  utility.  Sleep  itself 
is  not  beneficial,  but  mischievous,  if  it  be  not  well 
regulated.  A  man  may  easily  have  too  much  of  it, — 
more  than  is  good  for  him ;  and  the  excess  is  not 
indifferent, — it  is  absolutely  prejudicial.  Recreation, 
like  sleep,  must  be  carefully  regulated  with  a  view  to 
the  great  end  which  it  is  designed  to  subserve.  There 
must  be  some  amount  of  forethought  as  to  the  conduct 
of  it,  and  of  restriction  upon  its  freaks  and  licences,  if 
it  is  to  be  attended  with  wholesome  effects.  Perhaps 
there  are  some  of  my  readers  who  altogether  resent  the 
idea  of  such  restriction  ;  who  wish  altogether  to  exempt 
Recreation  from  the  interference  of  religious  principle  ; 
who  look  to  the  little  intervals  and  interstices  of  work 
as  so  much  time  which  may  be  freely  wasted,  trifled 
away,  frittered  away,  sinned  .away  without  compunc- 
tion, flung  recklessly  into  the  great  gulf  of  unredeemed 
possibilities. 

In  censuring  thoughts  of  this  kind  which  may  arise 
upon  the  subject,  it  is  necessary  to  disentangle  what  is 
true  and  just  in  them  from  what  is  radically  false  and 
vicious. 

It  is  absolutely  certain,  then,  that  there  is  no  single 
wakinjr  moment  of  our  life  which  we  can  afford  to  lose. 
Never  was  truer  line  written  by  any  poet  than  that  of 
Younir. 


the  man 


Is  yet  unborn  who  duly  weighs  an  hour." 

Probably  there  is  no  such  thing  as  an  indifferent 
moment, — a  moment  in  which  our  characters  are  not 
being  secretly  shaped  by  the  bias  of  the  will,  either  for 


ui.l  Of  Becreatioti,  287 

good  or  evil.  ^reat  mystery,  but  so  it  is,  thai 

our  Eternity  is  suspondod  upon  the  manner  in  which  wo 
pass  through  a  very  short  span  of  time.  And,  analo* 
gously,  this  very  short  span  of  time  tokcs  its  complexion 
from  the  moments  which  go  to  make  it  up.  If  life  it- 
self bo  of  such  tremendous  import,  its  constituent  hours 
and  miiiutes  cannot  bo  insignificant.  All  minutes  must 
be  made  available ;  not  indeed  available  in  one  particu- 
lar form,  not  available  in  the  way  of  work,  but  all 
available  in  the  Service  of  God,  to  which  both  work  and 
diversion  may  contribute. 

But  it  is  possible  that  what  is  meant  by  resisting 
the  interference  of  religious  principle  with  Recreation, 
may  be  merely  this,  that  Recreation  will  cease  to  be 
Recreation,  if  too  much  seriousness  of  thought  be  thrown 
into  it.  And  there  is  some  amount  of  truth  here,  which 
we  shall  presently  notice.  Unbending  no  doubt  must 
be  unbending,  if  it  is  to  answer  its  object. 

Let  us  first  say  something  of  the  principle  by  which 
alone  any  Recreation  can  be  sanctified,  and  then  oflier 
sonic  advice  on  the  forms  which  Recreation  may  take. 

First,  then.  Recreation,  like  work,  is  to  be  engaged 
in  with  a  view  to  God's  glory  :  we  are  not  to  separatti 
it  even  in  idea  from  Him,  but  to  bring  it  within  the 
great  scope  of  His  service.  This  principle  is  distinctly 
enunciated  in  the  words  of  the  Apostle, — "  Whether 
therefore  ye  eat,  or  drink,  or  whatsoever  ye  do,  do  all 
to  the  glory  of  God."  Eating  and  drinking,  the  taking 
of  nourishment,  is  a  species  of  Recreation,  when  that 
word  is  understood  in  it^  widest  sense.  To  take  nour- 
ishment is  to  refresh  the  body,  even  as  to  take  Recrea- 
tion is  to  refresh  the  mind.  If  then  the  taking  of 
nourishment  may  be  made  conducive  to  God's  Glory, 
and  brought  within  the  scope  of  His  Service,  so  also, 


288  Of  Recreation.  [part 

without  doubt,  may  the  taking  of  Recreation.  Let  it 
be  well  settled  in  the  mind  then,  as  the  first  step,  that 
our  periods  of  relaxation  may  have  a  religious  signifi- 
cance and  a  religious  value ;  may  be  a  means  of  reli- 
gious improvement  and  of  progress  in  the  spiritual  life, 
whose  law  is  progress ;  and  this  apprehension  is  of  it- 
self a  point  gained,  although  it  be  only  an  apprehension 
of  the  understanding,  and  not  as  yet  the  choice  of  the 
will. 

The  great  point,  however,  is  that  choice  of  the  will, 
or  intention  of  the  heart; — that  we  should, be  able  to 
say  mentally  and  cordially  these  words,  or  their  equiva- 
lent : — "  I  have  chosen  the  Service  of  Almighty  God, 
in  whatever  position  He  pleases  to  place  me,  as  the  one 
object  of  my  life.  To  this  great  object  I  have  determined 
to  devote  all  my  faculties  of  body  and  soul.  But  then 
neither  body  nor  soul  can  be  sound  or  healthy  without 
innocent  Eecreation.  Innocent  Eecreation,  therefore, 
I  will  have, — I  take  it  as  a  matter  of  deliberate  choice, 
not  merely  because  it  gratifies  me,  but  chiefly  because 
it  is  subservient  to  my  end."  This  is  the  only 
principle  which  can  sanctify  any  action,  be  it  grave  or 
trivial. 

As  to  the  different  forms  of  Recreation,  the  follow- 
ing suggestions  may  be  offered. 

1.  First,  of  course,  care  must  be  taken  that  there 
may  be  nothing  in  them  contrary  to  the  Will  and  Word 
of  God, — nothing  which  His  Law  condemns.  Their 
being  useful  (in  the  ordinary  sense  of  usefulness)  is  not 
here  the  question.  It  would  be  absurd  to  require  of 
every  kind  of  Recreation  that  it  shall  do  some  definite 
good  to  the  minds  and  bodies  of  others.  It  is  quite 
sufficiently  useful,  if  it  refreshes  our  own  minds  and 
bodies,  and  renders  them  more  efficient  instruments  of 


1 1 1  I  Of  Recreation,  289 

tho  Divine  tSorvico.  All  besides  this  that  can  be  re- 
.  uired  is,  that  it  shall  be  innocent, — a  form  of  diversion 
(>n  which  Holy  Scripture  lays  no  ban. 

2.  But  secondly,  it  does  not  follow  that  because  it 
s  abstractedly  innocent,  and  because,  therefore,  wo  may 
not  presume  to  judge  others  for  resorting  to  it,  it  is 
therefore  allowable  for  ourselves.  There  are  many 
amusements,  which  to  the  pure  are  pure,  but  which 
with  persons  whoso  imaginations  have  been  fouled  by 
evil,  and  ovil  which,  it  may  be,  they  have  not  yet 
thoroughly  outgrown,  would  stimulate  bad  passions,  or 
at  least  throw  serious  temptations  in  their  way.  Let 
no  man  or  woman  for  the  sake  of  a  paltry  amusement 
venture  within  arm's  length  of  a  temptation.  To  do  so 
were  to  turn  into  a  mockery  the  daily  petition  which 
Our  Lord  puts  into  our  lips, — '*  Lead  us  not  into  tempta- 
tion." By  the  slightest  experience  of  the  spiritual  life, 
we  gain  some  amount  of  knowledge  of  our  moral  tem- 
perament, just  as  by  the  experience  of  physical  life  we 
gain  a  knowledge  of  the  kinds  of  food  wholesome  and 
unwholesome  for  us.  Then  this  knowledge  of  our  own 
moral  temperament  must  be  called  into  exercise,  and 
acted  upon,  in  judging  what  amusements  are  for  our- 
selves permissible.  In  the  spiritual  life,  as  in  the  phys- 
ical, the  unwholesome  must  be  avoided.  Each  Chris- 
tian must  be  fully  persuaded  in  his  own  mind  of  the 
innocence  of  those  forms  of  Recreation  in  which  he  in- 
dulges, not  only  to  the  world  at  large,  but  to  himself 
in  particular.  If  the  circumstantials  of  any  amuse- 
ment  are  such  as  effectually  to  preclude  secret  Prayer, 

(the  realization  of  God's  Presence  and  the  thought  of 
Our  Lord's  Passion,  to  us  such  amusement  is  forbidden, 
though  Scripture  may  be  silent  upon  it.  Yet  it  is  quite 
possible  that  our  neighbour,  whose  mind  is  possessed 


290  Of  Recreation  [pakt 

of  more  recollectedncss  and  self-control  than  ours,  may 
partake  of  it  innocently.  It  is  very  necessary  to  re- 
member this,  because  religious  persons  are  very  apt  to 
judge  and  set  at  nought  their  brethren  for  not  being 
equally  strict  with  themselves  in  regard  to  amusements. 
If  God's  Word  has  not  spoken  on  the  subject,  this  is 
nothing  more  or  less  than  sacrificing  love  to  a  Pharisaic 
feeling  of  self-gratulation  that  "  we  are  not  as  other 
men  are." 

It  may  seem  a  truism  to  say,  and  yet  it  certainly 
needs  to  be  said,  that  the  more  amusing  amusements 
are  the  better.  Busy  lives  have  not  time  for  many  ;  ■ 
let  such  as  are  taken,  then,  be  thoroughly  refreshing. 
Yet  what  a  perfect  burden  are  many  forms  of  so-called 
amusement !  or  how  do  we  turn  them  into  a  burden  by 
thoughtlessness,  and  negligence,  and  the  evil  habit  of 
letting  amusement  shift  for  itself,  as  if  it  were  a  thing 
not  worth  caring  for  in  a  religious  point  of  view  !  The 
ordinary  Recreation  of  ordinary  persons  very  much 
resolves  itself  into  conversation  with  friends  or  casual 
acquaintance ;  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  by  taking 
a  little  pains  with  it,  directing  it  in  interesting  channels, 
and  by  unselfish  efibrts  to  make  it  vivacious,  conversa- 
tion may  be  made  to  brighten  the  mind  very  con- 
sidevably,  and  to  relieve  the  pressure  of  the  burdens  of 
life.  "  Iron  sharpenetli  iron ;  so  a  man  sharpeneth  the 
countenance  of  his  friend."  Yet  how  miserably  stale, 
flat,  and  unprofitable,  how  utterly  devoid  of  the  salt  of 
wit  and  wisdom  are  the  conversations  which  often  fill 
up  the  interstices  of  our  time  !  The  two  minds  brought 
together  for  half  an  hour  are  like  two  circles,  which 
just  touch  in  one  point,  and  then  fly  oflT  each  in  its  own 
orbit ;  there  is  no  manner  of  intersection,  sympathy,  or 
fellowship  ;  and  the  result  is  that  w^hat  should  be  a 


III.]  Of  Recreation.  201 

relief  becomes  instantly  a  drudgery.  What  can  be 
done  under  such  circumstances,  where  the  persons  across 
whom  wo  are  thrown  are  hopelessly  dull,  irresponsive, 
formal,  or,  it  may  be,  vain,  impertinent,  or  otherwise 
actively  offensive  ?  Matters  perhaps  may  be  somewhat 
mended  by  good  hftmour ;  and  if  not,  this  must  bo 
taken  as  one  of  the  petty  trials  of  every-day  life,  which, 
like  serious  trials,  gives  scope  for  the  exercise  ofChrist^ 
like  patience  and  sweetness,  and  so  for  the  elevation  of 
our  own  spiritual  character.  That  may  seem  to  be  a 
mind  wholly  inacxjcssiblo  to  our  view  of  things ;  but  it 
is  well  to  remember  that  every  human  mind  has  some- 
where within  it  a  source  of  sympathy,  if  we  did  but 
know  where  to  look  for  it,  and  an  interest,  if  we  could 
but  find  the  clue  to  it.  Possibly,  as  often  happens  in 
our  intercourse  with  foreigners,  it  may  bo  our  own 
peculiarities  which  chill,  and  oflend,  and  drive  inward 
those  whom  we  meet  with.  At  all  events  an  attempt 
to  copy  the  mind  of  Christ  and  fulfil  the  Scriptural, 
precept,  "  Be  patient  towards  all  men,"  cannot  fail  of 
drawing  down  a  blessing  upon  our  own  spirit — a  far 
greater  relief  than  that  which  could  be  found  in  the 
liveliest  conversation. 

But  to  return  to  our  immediate  topic.  How  often 
is  foreign  travel,  one  of  the  best  and  most  intclli 
gent  forms  of  Recreation,  turned  from  a  pleasure  into  a 
burden  by  the  silly  scrambling  way  in  which  it  is 
embarked  upon  !  No  forethought  is  exercised  on  the 
subject ;  there  is  no  attempt  at  unity  of  method  ;  and 
both  mind  and  body  are  exhausted  instead  of  refreshed, 
by  flying  about  all  day  long  from  cathedrals  to  cateracts, 
from  museums  to  mountains,  and  from  picture  galleries 
to  pinnacles  of  temples.  Such  Recreation  to  a  great 
extent  defeats  its  own  end.      Variety  is,  no  doubt,  one 


292  Of  Recreation.  ^  [part 

secret  of  mental  relief;  but  then  even  in  the  variety 
there  should  be  a  sort  of  method  and  unity  of  plan,  lest 
it  degenerate  into  mere  distraction.  And  all  distrac- 
tion, that  of  pleasure  as  well  as  of  business,  is  a  burden 
to  the  mind. 

Lastly,  although  no  doubt  any  thing  like  severe 
application  of  the  mind  would  interfere  with  the  end  of 
Recreation,  it  is  very  much  to  be  wished  that  a  good 
education  embraced  some  superficial  and  elementary 
knowledge  of  those  lighter  subjects  of  study,  which,  as 
they  turn  upon  Nature,  can  be  taken  up  aud  pursued 
wherever  Nature  is  found.  It  is  easy  to  speak  con- 
temptuously of  superficial  knowledge,  and  if  such 
knowledge  flatters  the  owner  into  a  conceit  of  his  own 
wisdom,  it  is  contemptible ;  but  a  very  slight  intelli- 
gence on  natural  subjects — flowers,  shells,  trees,  the 
habits  of  birds,  the  habits  of  animals,  the  habits  of 
insects, — may  be  at  once  a  great  relief  to  the  mind  and 
a  rational  interest.  One  of  the  saddest  conditions  of  a 
human  creature  is  to  read  God's  Word  with  a  veil  upon 
the  heart,  to  pass  blindfolded  through  all  the  wondrous 
testimonies  of  Redeeming  Love  and  Grace  which  the 
Holy  Scriptures  contain.  And  it  is  sad,  also,  if  not 
actually  censurable,  to  pass  blindfolded  through  the 
work<6  of  God,  to  live  in  a  world  of  flowers,  and  stars, 
and  sunsets,  and  a  thousand  glorious  objects  of  Nature, 
and  never  to  have  a  passing  interest  awakened  by  any 
one  of  them.  It  is  a  precept  of  the  Divine  Master's, 
occurring  in  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  and  therefore 
obligatory  upon  all  His  disciples,  that  we  should  "  con- 
sider the  lilies  of  the  field."  If  Christians  qualified 
themselves  more  for  an  interest  in  Nature  by  that 
which  is  essential  to  such  interest,  a  slight  knowledge 
of  Nature,  there  would  be  among  them  much  more 


III.]  Of  Recreation,  203 

purity,  and  therefore  mucli  more  brightness  and 
joyousncss  of  mind.  For  Nature  is  God's  pure  work, 
unsullied  by  sin ;  and  therefore  the  study  of  it  is  a 
pure  delight  to  those  who  love  him. 

Two  obvious  counsels  may  bo  given  in  conclusion. 
a.  All  excess  in  recreations  must  be  avoided.  They 
are  not,  and  must  not  be,  regarded  as  tlie  earnest 
business  of  life.  Tlie  sign  of  the  Cross, — the  mark  of 
self-denial  and  self-renunciation, — should  be  made  upon 
each  and  all  of  them.  Indeed  this  is  as  essential  to  the 
enjoying  them  as  it  is  to  their  sanctification.  An 
amusement  indulged  too  far  soon  cloys.  It  has  not  the 
spring  in  it  which  earnest  work  has. 

h.  Secondly ;  our  longer  periods  of  leisure  should 
always  be  made  to  pay  to  God" the  tax  of  additional 
devotion.  It  is  a  heavenly  thrift,  and  a  great  gain  in 
the  way  of  refreshment  of  mind,  to  make  an  hour  of 
leisure  an  hour  of  communion  with  Our  Lord.  We 
should  see  to  it  that,  as  our  alms  are  proportioned  to 
our  superfluous  substance,  so  our  prayers  should  bo 
proportioned  to  our  superfluous  time. 

Finally ;  let  none  think  lightly  of  the  subject  we 
have  treated  in  this  Cliapter.  We  have  been  really 
dealing  with  the  question  how  the  human  mind  may  be 
,  preserved  in  health,  vigour,  and  efficiency.  .What 
careful,  discriminating,  delicate  treatment  does  this 
mind  require  at  our  hand,  seeing  that  God  puts  upon  it 
such  overwhelming  honour  !  Does  he  not  propose  to 
make  it  the  Temple  of  His  Holy  Spirit,  a  house  for 
1 1  is  special  indwelling,  a  spiritual  sanctuary  fragrant 
with  the  incense  of  Prayer  %  If  the  constitution  which 
He  has  given  it  is  never  thoughtfully  studied,  if  from 
neglect  or  thoughtlessness  we  violate  the  laws  which 
lie  has  impressed  upon  it,  may  we  not  seriously  injure 


294  Of  Recreation.  [pari 

that  which  is  destined  to  be  an  instrument  of  His 
Service  and  Glory?  Lord,  make  us  to  hallow  Thy 
House  of  Prayer.  Make  us  jealous  of  the  purity, 
vigour,  energy  of  our  own  minds.  And  oh  !  let  recre- 
ation, as  well  as  business,  be  so  ordered,  as  to  further 
instead  of  interrupting  our  communion  with  Thee. 
Teach  us  to  turn  it  into  fine  gold  of  the  altar  by  the 
purity  of  our  intention  in  taking  it,  and  to  offer  it 
unto  Thee,  (for  so  only  can  any  work  of  ours  be  ac- 
ceptable,) in  the  union  of  Thy  Son's  Merits  and 
[fission. 


PART   IV. 
SUPPLEMENTAL 


i 


CHAPTER  I. 

ON  THE  WISDOM  AND  COMFORT  OP  LOOKING  NO  FUE- 
TIIER  THAN  THE  PRESENT  DAT  IN  OUR  SERVICE  OF 
QOD. 

* 

"  He  that  U  faithful  in  that  which  is  least  is  faithful  also  in  mwc/i." 
— LuKK  xvi.  10. 

TuK  principle  laid  down  in  these  words  admits  of  many 
applications.  One  of  them  will  form  the  subject  of  the 
present  Chapter. 

We  had  occasion  to  remark  recently  that  all  growth 
proceeds  from  one  nucleus, — forms  round  one  centre. 
It  is  so  in  Nature,  it  is  so  in  Grace,  and  it  is  so  in  study 
and  the  pursuit  of  knowledge.  The  first  thing  to  bo 
done  by  a  person  bent  upon  studying  any  large  subject 
of  human  knowledge,  such  as  History,  or  Jurisprudence, 
or  Philosophy,  or  Divinity,  is  to  limit  the  field  of  his 
researches,  and  draw  a  circle  round  it.  In  History,  for 
example,  the  attacking  univei*sal  History  in  all  its  parts 
would  make  us  miserable  sciolists  ;  we  should  take  any 
well-defined  period,  to  which  we  happen  to  be  particu- 
larly drawn,  and  make  all  our  studies  gather  round  that 
[Xiriod  as  their  centre.  Thence  our  researches  may 
extend  themselves  into  adjacent  periods  systematically 
and  on  principle ;  and  the  knowledge  so  acquired  shall 
be  sound,  not  discursive. 

Now  in  so  far  as  the  practical  life  of  Christianity 
is,  or  ought  to  be,  the  study  of  all  of  us,  it  is  subject  to 


298    On  the  Wisdom^  c£-c.,  of  looking  no  further  [pari 

the  same  laws  as  other  studies.  Here,  too,  he  who 
would  make  a  solid  progress  will  do  well  in  a  certain 
sense  to  limit  the  field.  In  a  certain  sense,  of  course, 
it  admits  of  no  limitation.  The  Service  of  God  must 
be  co-extensLve  with  our  whole  life,  and  reach  over  our 
whole  compass  of  duties,  without  a  single  exception. 
Still,  in  tryiiig  to  fill  this  vast  area,  we  shall  do  well  to 
begin  from  a  centre,  and  work  outward.  In  Devotion 
and  in  Duty  address  yourself  first  to  what  is  manage- 
able, and  distract  not  the  mind,  whose  quietness  is  es- 
sential to  progress,  with  too  many  calls  at  once.  Col- 
lect all  your  energies  in  one  quarter  of  the  field, — 
whether  it  be  the  conflict  with  the  besetting  sin,  or  the 
realization  of  the  Presence  of  God,  or  of  any  other  re* 
ligious  truth  which  has  taken  a  strong  hold  upon  the 
mind  ;  and  try  to  occupy  that  corner  effectively.  Be 
faithful  in  that  which  is  least ;  and  gradually  the  area 
of  God's  Service  shall  for  thee  extend  itself,  and  thou 
shalt  be  faithful  also  in  much. 

Now  it  shall  be  the  object  of  the  present  Chapter  to 
show  how  this  principle  is  capable  of  application  to  our 
Time. 

God  has  divided  for  us  our  Time  into  periods.  Our 
life  has  by  His  appointment,  something  like  the  hands 
of  a  clock,  or  the  stroke  of  a  bell,  to  mark  its  progress. 
I  am  not  speaking  of  artificial  divisions  of  Time,  like 
the  hour  or  the  week.  The  hour  is  an  arbitrary  divi- 
sion of  man's  making.  The  day  might  be  divided  into 
three  hours,  or  four,  or  nine,  as  easily  as  into  twelve. 
The  week,  or  rather  the  seven-day  week,  is  indeed  of 
Divine  appointment ;  but  it  too,  like  the  hour,  is  arbi- 
trary and  artificial, — and  has  nothing  in  Nature  cor- 
responding to  it.  The  Romans  had  eight-day  weeks, 
and  other  nations  may  have  divided  their  month  after 


IV.]    than  the  rrcscnl  Day  in  our  Service  of  Ood.   299 

otlier  fiishions,  into  sets  of  six  days,  or  four  days,  or 
three.  But  I  am  speaking  now  of  the  natural  divisions 
of  Time,  marked  by  the  movements  of  the  heavenly 
!>odies, — by  the  circuit  of  tho  earth  round  the  sun,  the 
moon  round  tho  earth,  and  by  tho  earth's  revolution  on 
its  own  axis.  Tho  year,  the  month,  and  tho  day  are 
God's  divisions  of  Time,  and  they  are  divisions  inher- 
ent in  the  constitution  of  tho  world, — divisions  having 
an  outward  visible  sign  on  tlio  faco  of  Nature  to  mark 
them. 

Now  of  these  periods, — the  day,  tho  month,  tho  year, 
which  enter  into  tho  composition  of  every  man's  life- 
time,— tho  day  is  the  least.  The  day  is  the  least  in 
point  of  duration  ;.  but  it  may  be  also  said  with  truth  of 
the  day  that  it  is  tho  rudiment  of  the  whole.  The  day 
is  a  life  in  little,  a  miniature  life.  Let  a  convex  mirror 
be  suspended  overhead  in  a  room,  so  as  to  form  a  small 
angle  with  the  wall ;  you  will  see  all  the  whole  room 
ill  it,  wide  as  it  may  be,  with  all  the  details  of  the  fur- 
niture, and  all  the  company.  And  how  is  this  ?  Every 
object  is,  of  course,  greatly  reduced  in  size,  so  that 
every  square  yard  of  space  in  the  room  appears  as  a 
square  inch  of  space,  or  less,  on  the  mirror.  Still  there 
is  nothing  which  finds  its  place  in  the  room,  which  does 
not  also  find  a  proportionate  place  on  the  mirror.  So 
it  is  with  tho  day  and  the  lifetime.  The  day  is  tho 
convex  mirror  of  the  life.  Do  you  desire  a  summary 
estimate  of  a  man's  whole  character,  as  it  will  appear 
upon  a  calm  review  after  he  is  laid  in  his  coffin  ? 
Study  him  for  a  day  only,  from  his  rising  to  his  lying 
down ;  and  it  is  enough :  the  germs  of  the  life  are  in 
the  day ;  and  that  microscopic  view,  aided  by  a  little 
effort  of  imagination,  puts  you  in  possession  of  tho 
nhole  truth  respecting  him.     Is  it  not  written,  " He 


300    On  the  Wisdom,  <&c.,  of  looking  no  further  [pakt 

that  is  faithful  in  that  which  is  least  is  faithful  also  in 
much  :  and  he  that  is  unjust  in  the  least  is  unjust  also 
in  much?" 

But  before  I  enter  more  in  detail  into  the  miniature 
character  of  the  day,  and  the  help  which  we  may  derive 
from  the  due  consideration  of  this  character,  I  will  point 
to  those  passages  of  Holy  Scripture,  which  imply  that, 
in  God's  design,  the  day  is  the  rudiment  of  the  whole 
life, — a  little  life  in  itself. 

First,  then,  the  Christian's  store  of  provisions  for  his 
journey  is  meted  out  to  him  day  by  day ;  which  implies 
that  in  God's  estimate  a  day  is  a  complete  cycle,  a  little 
life  in  itself.  On  what  principle  does  our  Lord  teach 
us  to  pray,  "  Give  us  day  by  day  our  daily  bread  %  " 
Why  are  we  implicitly  directed  to  come  again  another 
morning,  and  yet  another  and  another,  for  our  supplies  ? 
Why  not  pray  compendiously  and  once  for  all.  Give  me 
bread,  Lord,  during  the  term  of  my  life  ?  Why,  but 
because  another  day  is  not  so  much  another  stage  in  the 
pilgrimage,  as  actually  another  pilgrimage,  in  itself 
complete,  without  any  consideration  of  what  went  before, 
or  what  is  to  follow  after  1  I  know  not  whether  I  may 
live  to  see  another  day.  If  therefore  bread  for  a  whole 
lifetime  were  to  be  given  me  to-day,  it  might  be  super- 
fluous, it  might  be  more  than  was  needed.  And  to  pray 
for  more  than  we  need,  would  be  inconsistent  with  the 
sobriety  which  should  characterize  prayer. 

Again ; — as  the  Christian's  provisions  are  meted  out 
by  the  day,  so  his  thoughts  are  to  have  the  same  limit, 
— his  anxieties  (blessed  be  God !)  are  to  be  bounded  by 
the  horizon  of  nightfall.  Sweet  and  solemn  are  those 
words, — I  know  not  whether  more  sweet,  or  more 
solemn, — "  Take  no  thought  for  the  morrow,  for  the 
morrow  shall  take  thought  for  the  things  of  itself;  suf- 


IV.]   than  the  Present  Day  in  our  Service  of  Ood.   iiOl 

ficieut  unto  the  day  is  tho  ovil  thereof."  Observe  that 
our  Lord  docs  not  tell  us  to  take  no  thought  for  thii 
day  ;  rather  perhaps  lie  implies  that  wo  should  do  so. 
Certainly  it  would  be  well  to  do  so  in  matters  spiritual. 
It  would  bo  well  if,  in  tiie  freshness  of  the  moruing 
hour,  wo  were  to  arrange  our  engagements,  as  far  as 
possible,  with  a  little  forethought  and  discretion,  and 
make  up  tlie  plan  of  our  day  till  bed-time.  "  Such  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  in  the  course  of  to-day  may  be  gained 
for  the  highest  of  all  purposes ; — I  must  work  hard 
beforehand  to  gain  it.  I  shall  have  to  encounter  such 
and  such  a  temptation, — I  must  be  on  the  watch  for  it 
This  hour  I  shall  be  alone, — I  must  guard  my  thoughts ; 
the  next  I  shall  be  in  company, — I  must  guard  my 
tongue.  A  little  contrivance  and  arrangement  here  and 
there  may  redeem  time, — I  must  see  whether  the  ar- 
rangement cannot  be  made.'*  All  this  is  consideration 
bcforcliand, — is  thoughtfulness ;  but  it  is  not  tho 
thoughtfulness  which  tho  Lord  forbids, — for  it  lies 
within  the  horizon  of  to-day.  What  He  does  forbid, 
and  what  unhappily  it  is  very  hard  to  check  in  oneself, 
is  the  previous  contemplation  and  adjustment  of  dif 
ficulties,  which  stretch  into  that  unknown  to-morrow, 
which  belong  not  to  the  cycle  of  tho  present  day.  We 
are  always  for  flying  off  mentally  to  contingencies, 
things  which  are  to  happen  by  and  by,  and  may  never 
happen  ;  Christ  is  always  for  recalling  us  to  that  which 
lies  under  our  hands. 

Again.  Our  purposes  are  to  be  limited  by  tlie  ^me 
horizon,  which  determines  our  duties,  our  provisions, 
and  our  anxieties ;  or  rather,  if  we  listen  to  the  literal 
wording  of  Scripture,  by  an  horizon  still  more  limited. 
"  Go  to  now,  ye  that  say.  To-day  or  to-morrow  we  will 
go  into  such  a  city,  and  continue  there  a  year,  and  buy, 


302    On  the  Wisdom j  c&c,  of  looking  no  furtlier  [rAET 

and  sell,  and  get  gain  :  whereas  ye  know  not  what  shall 
be  on  the  morrow.  For  what  is  your  life  %  It  is  even 
a  vapour,  which  appeareth  for  a  little  time,  and  then 
vanisheth  away.  Eor  that  ye  ought  to  say.  If  the  Lord 
will,  we  shall  live,  and  do  this  or  that."  A  precept 
than  which  scarcely  any  may  be  more  cheaply  fulfilled 
in  the  letter,  while  it  is  perhaps  the  most  arduous  of  all 
God's  precepts  to  fulfil  in  spirit  and  in  truth.  Surely  it 
is  not  to  be  fulfilled  by  the  mere  use  of  the  words, 
"  please  God,'*  or  of  the  letters  D.  V.,  when  we  speak 
of  our  future  projects ;  but  by  a  deep  inner  consciousness 
that  the  future  is  wrapped  in  utter  uncertainty, — that 
we  can  see  no  furtlier  than  to  what  lies  under  our  hand, 
— and  that  even  the  cycle  of  the  present  day  embraces 
more  time  than  we  have  any  right  to  calculate  upon. 
There  may  be  trials  awaiting  me  in  the  vista  of  the 
future,  trials  threatening  to  come  to-morrow,  or  the  day 
after  to-morrow,  or  a  week  hence,  or  a  month  hence, — 
I  have  simply  nothing  to  do  with  them  at  present. 
God  requires  my  services  day  by  day,  and  will  gra- 
ciously recompense  me  day  by  day,  if  I  am  true  to 
Ilim,  and  lead  me  on  day  by  day,  and  give  me  the 
support  of  a  day  in  its  day,  and  the  grace  of  a  day  in  its 
day.  And  surely  a  day  is  not  a  long  time  to  endure, — 
there  are  not  so  many  hours  between  rising  up  and 
lying  down,  but  that  I  could  manage,  if  I  really  prayed 
and  really  strove,  to  be  watchful,  and  pure,  and  self- 
denying,  and  zealous  in  my  work,  and  punctual  in  my 
devotions.  Come  now,  does  not  it  look  very  practicable ; 
really  a  thing  that  may  be  done,  and  done  by  the  hum- 
blest? Then  why  should  we  not  begin  to-morrow? 
Why  should  we  not  spend  to-morrow  better  than  we 
have  ever  spent  a  day  in  our  life  %  Why  should  we 
not  lay  our  plans  for  doing  so  this  evening  1 


IV.]    than  the  Present  Bay  in  our  Service  of  Ood.   303 

Tims  it  Ikis  boon  shown  iVuni  Holy  Scripture  that 
tlio  day  is  the  divinely-constituted  clement  of  the  life 
of  man, — the  element  for  "which  ho  is  furnished,  and 
beyond  which  ho  need  look  no  further.  In  shorty  a  day 
is,  as  I  said  before,  a  miniature  life.  And  now  let  U8 
draw  out  this  position  in  detail. 

First ;  The  morning  hour  is  a  miniature  of  youth. 
We  know  how  much  depends  on  the  shape  and  com 
plexion,  which  the  human  character  takes  in  youth, — 
how  comparatively  exceptional  a  case  it  is  that  a  godless, 
and  irreligious  youth  is  succeeded  by  piety  in  mature 
age, — how  all-important  it  is  that  the  influences  of 
Divine  Grace  should  be  fused  into  the  character  when 
it  is  plastic,  and  before  it  has  crystallized.  Nor  can 
the  importance  of  the  morning  hour  bo  overrated. 
That  the  period  immediately  after  rising  should  bo 
scrupulously  consecrated  to  God, — that  the  earliest 
thoughts  of  the  day  should  be  filled  with  God, — that 
the  homage  of  self-dedication  should  be  renewed  before 
starting  on  another  pilgrimage, — that  we  should  listen 
to  His  small  voice  of  warning  and  encouragements  as  it 
issues  from  the  pages  of  His  written  Word, — all  this  is 
so  essentially  bound  up  with  the  peace  and  holiness  of 
the  day,  that  one  might  almost  say  the  two  are  inse- 
parable. The  tone  of  sentiment  and  feeling  maintained 
tliroughout  the  day  is  sure  to  take  its  colouring  from 
that  morning  hour. 

Secondly.  Youth  passes  away,  and  the  earnest  work 
of  life  begins ;  the  profession  or  trade  is  entered  upon. 
And,  in  like  manner,  the  morning  prime  comes  to  a 
close ;  the  worship  of  God  is  completed,  and  the  service 
of  God, — that  is,  work,  the  work  of  our  calling,— 
begins.  Do  it  with  all  thy  might,  O  man,  for  it  is  the 
business  which  thy  Father  hath  given  thee  to  do.     Do 


304    On  the  Wisdom,  l&c,  of  looking  no  further  [part 

it  with  all  thy  might ;  for  thou  must  work  the  work 
of  Him  that  sent  thee  while  it  is  day ;  the  night 
cometh  when  no  man  can  work.  Thou  art  to  be  in  thy 
work  a  /xi/xt^t^s  0€o9, — copyist,  imitator  of  God.  Now 
whatever  God  does,  He  does  perfectly.  If  it  be  but 
the  creation  of  a  leaf  or  a  flower,  it  is  done  in  such  a 
manner  as  that  the  most  minute  and  microscopic  ex- 
amination only  serves  to  bring  out  fresh  beauties. 
Strive  to  do  thy  work  in  such  a  manner.  Let  it  be 
thy  earnest  effort,  that  he  who  looks  into  it  shall  find 
no  flaw.  Let  the  thing  not  only  be  done,  but  be  done 
gracefully  and  ornamentally,  as  far  as  may  be.  It  is  a 
great  and  precious  thought  that  God  may  be  pleased 
by  service  done  with  the  whole  soul,  and  with  strict 
punctuality  and  conscientiousness. 

Thirdly.  The  age  of  man  passes  on,  and  real  trials 
have  to  be  grappled  with,  when  life  is  mounting  now 
to  its  noontide.  Narrow  circumstances,  sickness,  be- 
reavement,— the  manifold  snares  of  the  great  world, 
the  lures  of  ambition,  or  sensuality,  or  covetousness, — 
beset  the  man  on  all  sides.  These  great  trials  of  faith 
and  patience  find  themselves  represented  in  miniature 
in  the  little  crosses,  ruggednesses,  unpleasant  collisions 
of  one  day's  walk.  Temptations  in  the  heat  of  con- 
versation to  overstate  things,  or  to  use  acrimonious 
language,  or  to  throw  out  (for  the  sake  of  amusement) 
words  bordering  on  the  profane, — temptations  to  lose 
one's  temper, — to  indulge  appetite  in  eating, — to  resign 
oneself  to  calls  of  ease  and  sloth,  or  to  harbour  thoughts 
of  impurity ; — all  this  is  the  miniature  crucible,  in 
which  day  by  day  the  faith  and  patience  of  God's 
children  are  tried  and  approved.  Often  the  noontide 
sun  waxes  hot  upon  them.  The  bright  promise  of  the 
morning  is  overclouded.     There  are  fightings  without, 


i\ .  ]  Day  in  our  tS'ervice  of  Ood.   305 

and  fears  within,  oppositions,  vexations,  annoyances, 
anxieties,  apprehensions.  It  is  painful  to  thwart  natural 
inclinations,  as  a  Christian  must  do  several  times  in 
each  day  :  it  is  called  in  Scripture  "  crucifixion  of  the 
flesh  ;"  and  crucifixion  cannot  but  be  painful.  But  com- 
fort thee,  faithful  soul  ] — the  night  is  coming,  when, 
if  thou  wilt  endure  patiently  at  present,  the  fever-fit  of 
passion,  or  excitement,  or  anxiety  shall  have  worn  off, 
and  the  Saviour  shall  fold  thee  under  His  wing,  and 
thou  slialt  sit  down  under  His  shadow  with  great 
delight. 

"  Be  the  day  weary,  or  be  the  day  long, 
At  length  it  ringeth  to  Evensong." 

So  sang  the  Fathers  of  the  Reformation  in  a  time  of 
sore  distress,  when  the  fires  of  persecution  raged  fiercely 
around  them,  and  God's  Truth  in  their  j^crsons  was 
hated,  hunted  down,  and  trodden  under  foot.  A  sweet 
strain,  and  which  .well  may  have  nerved  a  Christian 
man  to  dare  and  do  all  things.  Fierce  glows  the 
noontide  sun  of  persecution ;  but  man's  power  has  a 
limit;  and  suffering,  however  protracted,  must  have  a 
limit,  and  even  martyrdom  itself  is  but  light  affliction, 
when  set  in  the  balance  against  "  the  rest  that  ro- 
maincth  for  the  people  of  God."  And*  as  at  the  close 
of  the  most  wearisome  day  is  heard  the  musical 
tinkling  bell,  which  calls  Christians  to  Prayer,  and  the 
Evensong  is  poured  forth  at  the  Saviour's  feet,  and  He 
bestows  His  vesper  blessing  "  ere  repose  our  spirits 
seal," — so  it  shall  be  yet  a  little  while,  and  then  wo 
shall  hear  His  voice  calling  us  to  His  Bosom  with  a 
*  Come,  ye  blessed,"  and  shall  answer  in  accents  of 
well-grounded  hope  and  lofty  praise,  and  shall  share  the 
rest  of  those  who  sleep  in  Jesus. 


306    0)1  the  Wisdom,  d'Cj  of  looking  no  further  \pKKi 

Well,  the  prospect  of  the  evening  hour  of  communion 
with  God  may  equally  serve  to  nerve  us  to  a, manful 
endurance.  A  holy  calm  will  hover  round  that  evening 
hour, — light  and  music  will  then  break  out  upon  the 
soul,  if  the  testimony  of  conscience  be  such,  that  upon 
the  whole  we  can  rejoice  in  it.  Have  I  endured  to-day 
in  the  hour  of  temptation  1  have  I  worshipped  God  in 
my  closet  ?  served  Him  in  my  work  ?  obeyed  Him  in 
my  trials?  If  not  altogether  as  might  be  wished,  still 
perhaps  a  shade  better  than  yesterday, — at  all  events, 
there  is  His  boundless  Love  in  Christ ;  waiting  to  bless 
m(i  without  money,  and  without  price,  and  to  blot  out 
all  transgressions.  So,  saith  the  Lord  of  the  Vineyard, 
"  call  the  labourer  and  give  him  his  hire."  Let  his 
hire  be  the  peace  which  passeth  understanding,  which 
the  world  can  neither  give  nor  take  away.  Let  him  bo 
sealed  with  the  Saviour's  Blessing,  and  sleep  under  His 
wing. 

Lastly.  Death  ; — It  is  an  old  tale,  how  Death  is 
miniatured  in  sleep.  Both  are  a  lying  down  shrouded 
in  a  darkened  chamber,  where  the  stir  of  life  is  hushed, 
and  the  light  of  life  does  not  penetrate.  And  from 
both  there  shall  be  an  awakening ; — for  "  I  believe  in  the 
Eesurrection  of  the  Body."  I  believe  that,  as  the  stir 
in  the  house  begins  again  wuth  the  dawn, — so,  when 
the  present  economy  shall  have  run  its  course,  those 
dreary  abodes  which  the  cypress  and  the  yew  over- 
shadow, shall  be  peopled  with  life,  and  resound  with 
Hallelujahs. 

Such  is  the  analogy  between  Human  Life  and  the  day, 
which  results  from  the  fact  that  one  is  the  rudiment  of 
the  other.  Now  let  us  avail  ourselves  of  this  fact  in  the 
conduct  of  our  spiritual  life.     In  place  of  that  constant 


1     1    Ihan  (he  Present  Day  in  our  Service  of  Ood.   307 

!r;i  hing  forward  into  the  future  of  Time  which  cha- 
racterizes the  natural  man,  let  us  devote  ourselves  to 
•  luing  in  the  faith  and  fear  of  God  the  duties  which  call 
tor  immediate  discharj;c,and  to  meeting  in  His  strength 
the  temptations  which  to-day  are  imminent.  Let  our 
horizon  of  forethought  and  care  in  things  spiritual,  as 
well  as  in  things  natural,  be  nightfall.  To  coin  afresh 
an  old  proverb,  which  is  homely  to  vulgarity, — a 
cniiiago,  by  which  it  would  gain  much  in  moral  value, 
19  well  as  in  gracefulness, — "  Let  us  tiike  care  of  the 
days  ;  and  the  years  will  take  care  of  themselves." 

But,  alas  !  in  the  minds  of  many  readei-s  there  rises 
lip  the  discouraging  thought,  so  paralysing  to  effort, 
I  hat  already  numerous  days  have  dropped  away  into  the 
gulf  of  unreclaimed  possibilities,  like  the  autumn  leaves 
of  trees  which  grow  on  the  brink  of  a  deep  and  dark 
ravine ;  and  that  on  each  of  them,  even  though  they 
have  been  spent  in  secular  activities,  and  in  eager  run 
ning  to  and  fro  in  quest  of  worldly  wealth  or  worldly 
ilistinction,  might  be  inscribed  (like  oracles  upon  the 
Sibylline  leaves)  the  motto  which  poor  Hugh  Grotius 
deemed  appropriate  to  his  whole  life  :  "  I  have  wasted 
my  life  in  laboriously  doing  nothing  at  all."  Nothing 
have  we  done  for  God  in  those  days,  nothing  in  the 
work  of  our  salvation ;  and  all  beside  that  man  can  do 
is  vanity.  Be  it  so.  But  the  Gospel,  the  Good  News 
from  Heaven,  is  not  without  hope  for  us,  nor  without 
that  which  is  inseparable  from  hope,  a  new  spring  of 
i-nergy.  Although  in  the  system  of  the  Natural  Life 
of  man,  Time  past  can  never  be  recalled,  there  is  such 
a  thing  in  the  Economy  of  Grace  as  "  redeeming  the 
time."  When  our  works  are  done  with  a  full  faith  in . 
the  pardoning,  restoring  Love  of  Christ,  with  an  ardent 
enthusiastic  desire  to  please  II im,  and  yield  Him  all  the 


308  On  Unity  of  Effort  [pari 

little  miserable  tribute  that  we  can, — when  consciousness 
of  past  falls  and  neglected  opportunities  redoubles  our 
energy, — when,  like  Peter,  plunging  into  the  water  to 
meet  his  Lord,  we  burn  with  desire  to  show  Him  that 
we  love  II im  more  than  those,  who  have  not  wounded 
Him  so  deeply, — then  in  those  days  of  vigorous  Chris- 
tian impulse  we  redeem  the  time,  and  God  restores  to  us 
the  years  which  the  locust  of  self-indulgence  or  irreli- 
gious toil  has  eaten. 

Lift  up,  then,  the  hands  that  hang  down,  and  the 
feeble  knees !  God  gives  us  more  days  still, — gives 
them  surely  that  they  may  be  redeemed,  not  that  they 
may  follow  their  predecessors  into  the  dark  ravine  of 
unreclaimed  opportunities.  If  He  lightens  our  darkness 
once  again,  a  fresh  daw^n  to-morrow  will  suffuse  itself 
over  the  face  of  Nature.  My  reader,  why  should  it  not 
be  a  dawn  of  spiritual  life,  and  hope,  and  energy  in  thy 
breast, — a  dawn  which  shall  shine  more  and  more  unto 
the  perfect  day, — the  day  of  consummated  holiness  and 
endless  enjoyment  1 


CHAPTER    II. 

ON  UNITY  OF  EFFOET  IN  TEE  SERVICE  OF  GOD, 

*'  Tliou  art  careful  and  troubled  about  many  things  ;  but  one 
thing  is  needful.^'' — Luke  x.  41,  42. 

What  a  depth  is  there,  combined  with  what  a  simpli- 
city, in  the  words  of  Our  Blessed  Lord !  On  a  very 
fair  and  bright  day,  we  sometimes  see  the  sea  at  the 
distance  of  a  few  boat's-lengths  from  the  shore 
so   perfectly   clear,  that   we   can   literally   count   the 


IV. J  m  the  Service  of  Ghd,  309 

pebbles  at  the  bottom.  If  wo  were  to  tiirow  ourselves 
out  of  the  boat,  \*  3  should  find  that  we  were  strangely 

loceived  as  to  the  depth  of  that   water.     Its  crystal 

loarnoss  has  made  us  think  it  much  shallower  than  in 
truth  it  is,  and  wo  should  find  ourselves,  to  our 
surprise,  far  out  of  our  depth  in  it.  So  it  is  with  the 
maxims  of  Holy  Scripture  in  general ;  but  specially 

vith  those  gracious  sayings,  which  fell  from  the  lips  of 

le  Incarnate  Wisdom.     So  simple  that  a  child  can 

understand  them,  they  are  at  the  same  time  so  profound, 

tliat  the  intellect  of  the  most  highly  gifted  and  high- 

y  cultivated  philosopher  cannot  fathom  them.  The 
principles  assorted  in  them,  while  they  are  perfectly 
plain  and  intelligible,  admit  of  an  infinite  variety  of 
applications  to  the  conduct  of  life ;  applications  which 
the  spiritual  mind  is  instructed  by  God  to  make  for 
itself. 

One  great  secret  of  success  in  the  Cliristian  warfare 
is  quietness  of  mind.  Without  interior  peace,  there  is 
no  such  thing  as  true  Religion.  The  pejice,  which  by 
simple  faith  in  Christ  the  conscience  obtains,  is  the  first 
step  in  Sanctification.  All  Christian  virtue  is  built 
upon  that  foundation, — "Therefore  being  justified  by 
faith,  we  have  peace  with  God  through  our  Lord  Jesus 
(?hrist."  And  still  through  our  whole  course,  Christ's 
lilood  of  Atonement  and  His  Life  of  perfect  Righteous- 
ness are  the  great  fountains  of  peace  which  travel  with 
us,  just  as  the  stream,  which  flowed  from  the  smitten 
Rook,  followed  Israel  in  the  pilgrimage.  But,  if  we  are 
to  have  success  in  the  pursuit  of  holiness  and  in  meet- 
ing our  spiritual  foes,  there  must  be  peace  not  only  in 
the  consciousness  of  our  acccpt^ce,  but  peace  also  in 
effort  and  endeavour.  The  area  of  holiness  is  a  very 
wide  area;  and  by  attempting  to  fill  it  at  once,  we  may 


310  On  Unity  of  Effort  [part 

overtax  our  resources,  waste  our  strength,  and  throw 
ourselves  out  of  heart. 

We  will,  therefore,  in  this  Chapter  offer  some  re- 
marks on  the  principle  of  spiritual  policy  which  we 
should  adopt,  if  we  desire  successfully  to  meet  that  dis- 
couragement which  results  from  distraction  of  mind. 
The  principle  is  thus  given  us  by  Our  Blessed  Lord, — 
"  One  thing  is  needful."  And  this,  among  various  other 
applications  of  it,  all  equally  wholesome  and  wise,  we 
interpret  to  mean, — "  Let  there  be  one  idea  at  the  foun- 
dation of  your  spiritual  character,  round,  which  that 
character  forms  itself:  let  one  single  principle  be  the 
foundation  of  all  your  obedience  to  God's  command- 
ments. You  will  never  succeed,  while  you  are  paying 
equal  attention  at  one  and  the  same  time  to  every  de» 
partment  of  the  Divine  Law."  A  speculative  difficulty 
will  perhaps  be  felt  here,  which  it  is  well  to  encounter 
at  the  outset. 

Are  we  not  bound,  it  may  be  asked,  to  strive  after 
the  fulfilment  of  till  God's  commandments?  Does  not 
the  holy  Psalmist  say,  "  Then  shall  I  not  be  ashamed, 
when  I  have  respect  unto  all  Thy  commandments  ?  " 
If  therefore  any  one  should  advise  us  to  fasten  our  atten- 
tion principally  upon  one  of  these  commandments,  is 
he  not  relaxing  the  stringency  of  the  Divine  Law,  and 
imposing  upon  us  a  single  obligation,  where  God  has 
imposed  upon  us  many  %  This  reasoning  is  very  plau- 
sible, but  not  really  sound. 

The  heathen  philosopher,  Aristotle,  speaking  of  mere 
natural  virtues,  points  out  that  they  are  -so  linked  to- 
gether, that  if  a  man  possessed  one  virtue  in  absolute 
perfection,  he  must  perforce  possess  the  rest.  And  a 
similar  remark  may  be  made  respecting  the  graces  of 
the  Christian  character.     They  hang  together  more  or 


IV.]  in  the  Service  of  God,  31 1 

less,  and  one  draws  another  in  its  train.  Wc  may  see 
111  instance  of  this  in  St.  PauPs  inspired  panegyric  on 
C'harity.  Kcad  carefully  through  all  the  features  of 
Charity,  wliich  ho  portrays  in  that  grand  chapter,  and 
you  will  find  yourself  often  crying  out,  "  Why,  this  is 
not  charity  at  all,  which  he  is  describing,  but  some 
other  grace,  to  which  we  give  a  distinct  name."  For 
instance, "  Charity  is  not  puffed  up."  This  seems  rather 
an  attribute  of  Humility  than  of  Charity.  Again ; 
"  Charity  doth  not  behave  itself  unseemly ;  "  i.  e.  shows 
taste  and  tact  in  fmer  points  of  conduct.  This  sounds 
rather  like  Courtesy  than  like  Charity.  But  yet  the 
inspired  Apostle  is  not  wandering  from  his  point. 
Love  has  the  closest  connexion  with  humility  and  cour- 
tesy, so  that  perfect  love  can  never  exist  without  either. 
Every  breach  of  love  in  the  world  is  due  more  or  loss 
to  pride.  Whence  come  all  wranglings,  jars,  and  dis- 
cords, but  from  a  secret  feeling  that  a  certain  precedence 
and  certain  rights  are  our  due,  and  a  determination  al- 
ways to  stand  upon  those  rights,  and  never  to  waive 
that  precedence  1  Strike  at  the  root  of  this  feeling  in 
the  heart,  and  you  strike  at  the  root  of  every  quarrel ; 
or,  in  other  words,  secure  humility  in  any  mind  of  man, 
and  you  secure  love,  at  least  on  its  negative  side.  The 
case  is  the  same  with  courtesy.  Perfect  love  would 
involve  perfect  courtesy,  that  is  to  say,  a  nice  sense  of 
propriety  in  our  intercourse  with  others,  and  a  delicacy 
of  feeling  towards  them.  So  far  as  any  one  is  defective 
in  this  perfect  courtesy,  he  wants  one  of  the  finer  fea- 
tures of  love. 

Again ;  it  is  the  law  of  the  natural  characters  of  all 
of  us  that  one  particular  feature  or  class  of  features 
stands  out  prominently,  and  gives  its  complexion  to 
tlie  whole  character.    Wc  may  bo  quite  sure  that  our 


yi2  On  Unity  of  Effort  [paut 

spiritual  characters  will  form  themselves  in  the  same 
way.  They  will  have  a  pervading  colour,  they  will 
manifest  a  particular  leaning,  whether  we  wish  it  or 
not.  Our  minds  are  so  constituted  that  each  feature 
of  them  cannot  be  equally  developed.  Nor  indeed  is  it 
consistent  with  God's  design  in  regard  to  His  Church 
that  it  should  be  so.  That  design  includes  variety  of 
mind.  As  each  stone  has  its  place  in  an  arch,  and  no 
one  stone  will  fit  into  the  place  of  another,  so  the  mind 
of  each  Christian,  with  its  various  moral  and  in- 
tellectual endowments,  has  its  peculiar  place,  and  its  ap- 
propriate functions  in  the  vast  Temple  of  the  Church 
of  Christ. 

St.  Peter,  St.  Paul,  and  St.  John,  were  equally  good 
Christians ;  but  the  mind  of  the  first  did  not  adapt  it- 
self easily  to  the  evangelization  of  the  Gentiles  ;  that 
of  the  second  was  not  contemplative ;  that  of  the  third 
had  no  high  gifts  of  administration  and  rule,  though  it 
was  endowed  with  a  marvellous  insight.  It  is  the 
Lord's  design  now,  as  it  was  then,  that  His  different 
servants  should  exhibit  different  graces  of  the  Christian 
character ;  and  we  shall  do  well  in  framing  our  minds 
to  the  holiness  which  He  requires,  to  frame  them  with 
reference  to  His  design,  and  with  the  eye  constantly 
fixed  upon  it. 

But  again ;  and  this  has  a  most  important  bearing 
on  the  question  at  issue ; — all  growth  proceeds  upon 
the  principle  which  we  are  recommending.  Natural 
growth  means  the  gathering  together  of  particles  of 
matter  round  a  single  nucleus,  w^hich  nucleus  appro- 
priates and  assimilates  those  particles.  If  we  take  a 
small  fragment  of  the  blossom  of  a  flower,  and  examine 
it  with  a  powerful  microscope,  we  shall  see  that  it 
consists  of  a  series  of  colour-cells,  ranged  in  perfect 


i\  .1  iM  the  Service  of  God.  313 

Mi.iri,  (like  tl»o  colls  in  a  honeycomb, or  the  stones  in  a 
tessellated  pavement,)  which  contain  the  pigment  of 
the  flower.  Originally  there  was  but  one  single  cell, 
containing  the  viUil  principle  of  the  whole  flower ;  but 
.\s  the  germ  was  fed  by  the  dews  and  rains  of  heaven, 
and  by  the  moisture  of  the  earth,  it  gathered  to  itself 
particles  from  the  elements  which  surrounded  it,  and 
rradually  formed  a  neighbour  cell,  and  then  another, 
and  another,  until  the  whole  resulted  at  length  in  this 
magnificent  mosaic  of  cells,  so  far  superior  to  any 
pavement  which  King  Solomon  had  in  his  palace,  or 
("ven  in  his  temple.  Well,  spiritual  growth  proceeds 
'  y  the  same  rule  as  natural ;  it  is  for  the  most  part  a 
di'velopment  out  of  one  sentiment,  an  accretion  round 
the  nucleus  of  one  idea.  •  It  is  our  part  to  watch  this 
law  of  our  minds,  and  to  endeavour  by  prayer  and 
forethought^  and  wise  effort,  to  turn  it  to  account. 

Now,  practically,  how  is  this  to  be  ? 

1.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  besetting  sin 
or  fault,  if  any  one  is  prominent,  should  bo  the  first 
quarter  in  which  the  Christian  should  turn  his 
thoughts,  and  prayers,  and  efforts.  His  particular 
shortcoming  is  an  indication  by  God  in  what  part  of 
the  field  his  work  lies.  Having  ascertained,  then,  his 
besetting  sin  (and  we  gave  directions  for  doing  this  in 
a  preceding  Chapter),  let  him  set  himself  as  his  main 
business,  dismissing  other  matters  for  the  present, 
however  interesting  to  his  curiosity,  or  attractive  to  his 
tastes,  to  adopt  a  course  of  life  wholly  contrary  to  it  in 
thought,  word,  and  deed.  Let  the  main  tenor  of  his 
life  be  a  continual  prayer  and  struggle  in  God's 
trcngth  against  this  one  sin.  And  he  will  find  ere 
long  that  other  graces  are  forming  in  his  mind,  besides 
that  which  he  has  set  himself  specially  to  cultivate. 
14 


314  On  Unity  of  Effort  [paui 

This  perhaps  may  be  the  explanation  of  the  pheno- 
menon, which  puzzles  us  in  many  Scripture  characters, 
— that  they  fail  signally  in  the  very  grace  which  they 
most  especially  illustrate.  The  truth  may  be,  that 
this  was  originally  the  very  weak  point  of  their 
character, — that  Moses,  for  example,  was  by  nature 
impatient  and  irritable ;  but  that  waging  special  war 
against  this  sin,  he  became  by  grace  the  meekest  of 
men,  though  nature  broke  out  again  when  he  was  tried 
with  unusua]  severity  at  Meribah. 

At  all  events  it  is  certain  that  "  the  .  one  thing 
needful  "  for  those  beset  with  any  moral  and  spiritual 
infirmity,  is  to  rid  themselves  of  it,  rooting  it,  as  far  as 
possible,  out  of  their  hearts,  with  loathing  and  abhor- 
rence. Until  this  is  achieved,  there  is  no  business  for 
them  of  equal  importance. 

2.  But  supposing  that,  on  a  survey  of  our  character, 
it  should  not  appear  that  any  one  fault  or  sin  has  a 
greater  prominence  than  another,  (though  this  will 
rarely  be  the  case,)  we  may  then  set  ourselves  to 
choose,  according  to  our  own  inclinations,  some  broad 
Scriptural  principle  which  may  be  made  the  foundation 
of  our  whole  spiritual  character.  We  may  devote  our 
life,  or  at  all  events  some  period  of  it,  to  the  cultiva- 
tion and  illustration  of  one  particular  grace.  Let  me 
give  one  or  two  examples.  "  Hallowed  be  thy  Name,'* 
is  the  earliest  petition  of  the  Lord's  Prayer.  We 
conclude  that  the  hallowing  of  the  Name  of  God  is  the 
object  which  should  lie  nearest  to  the  heart  of  a  true 
Christian.  Now  let  us  take  this  to  ourselves  as  our 
rule  of  life, — devote  ourselves  steadily,  for  a  longer  oi 
shorter  period,  to  the  fulfilment  of  this  duty  as  the 
*'  one  thing  needful.'  Let  us  set  ourselves  tc  hallow 
God's  Word  by  never  introducing  it  lightly  in  conver- 


IV.]  in  the  Service  of  Ood, 


H] 


sation,  or  using  it  to  point  a  jest  however  innocent, 
iiid  by  always  lifting  up  our  heart  for  divine  illumi- 
nation while  wo  read  it,  thus  practically  placing  a 
dilTorcnco  between  it  and  other  books.  Let  us  set 
(Hirsclvesto  hallow  the  congregation  of  Christ's  Church, 
1)y  never  joining  in  Public  Worship  without  calling 
oriously  to  mind  that  Ho  is  in  the  midst  of  us.  Let 
us  set  ourselves  to  hallow  God's  Temple^  which  is  o^ 
boJy,  by  thinking  much  of  the  consecration  which  it 
(no  less  than  the  soul)  has  received  in  Baptism,  and 
by  carefully  separating  it,  by  means  of  abstinence,  if 
need  be,  from  all  approaches  to  impurity.  And  finally 
lot  us  set  ourselves  to  counteract  in  our  own  minds  the 
mischief,  incident  to  a  controversial  age,  of  discussing 
religious  subjects  of  the  gravest  moment  with  a  certain 
flippant  fluency.  The  practice  of  interlarding  conver- 
sation with  oaths  is  now  happily  almost  extinct ;  but 
the  levity  and  irreverence  which  gave  rise  to  it  may 
show  itself  in  other  forms,  and  often  does  show  itself 
jcven  among  religious  people.  Wo  may  bandy  the 
Sacred  Name  about  in  a  theological  argument,  and 
discuss  topics,  into  which  angels  fear  to  intrude,  in 
the  rash  and  hasty  way  in  which  Uzzah  handled  the 
ark,  and  with  as  little  awe  upon  our  spirits.  Other 
details  in  the  application  of  the  principle  will  suggest 
themselves,  into  which  I  need  not  enter. 

Or  we  might  attempt  to  make  poverty  of  spirit — 
the  subject  of  the  first  Beatitude — the  leading  thought 
of  our  religious  <;haracter.  We  might  set  ourselves 
to  cultivate  this  grace  as  the  "  one  thing  needful,"  by 
meditating  frequently  on  our  misery  and  ^vretchcdness, 
on  our  shameful  and  numerous  falls,  on  the  repeated 
failure  of  our  resolutions,  on  the  subtle  and  powerful 
enemies,  by  which  we  are  surrounded,  watched  and 
opposed,  and  on  the  fiir  greater  progress  in  grace  which 


316  On  Unity  of  Effort  [part 

others  have  made,  with  advantages  much  inferior  to 
our  own.  Also,  by  welcoming  humiliations,  and  mor- 
tifications of  our  vanity,  whether  great  or  small,  and 
blessing  God  for  them,  as  bitter  but  wholesome  medi 
cines,  suitable  to  our  malady.  By  frankly  confessing 
to  our  intimate  friends,  where  it  can  be  done  discreetly 
and  without  risk  of  harm  to  them,  the  more  flagrant 
d^ils  of  our  life,  with  an  entire  willingness  to  lie  as  low 
in  their  eyes  as  we  do  in  God's.  By  constantly  calling 
to  mind  and  acknowledging  before  God  that  as  for  the 
gifts  which  we  hold  of  Him,  they  are  but.  gifts,  and 
entail  responsibilities  without  giving  any  cause  for 
glorying ;  and  that  the  grace  which  is  in  us  is  grace, 
that  is,  free  flivour  shown  to  the  undeserving,  and 
that  our  very  correspondence  to  grace  comes  of  this 
free  favour,  and  not  of  any  good  thing  which  dwelleth 
in  us. 

Having  chosen  our  principle,  whatever  it  be,  it  will 
be  part  of  the  business  of  every  morning  to  anticipate 
the  occasions  on  which  it  maybe  brought  into  exercise, 
and  to  seek  the  help  of  Our  Lord,  that  we  may  be 
faithful  when  those  occasions  arise  ;  and  it  will  be  part 
of  the  business  .of  every  evening  to  examine  our  con- 
sciences in  reference  to  this  one  needful  thing,  and 
ascertain  by  a  searching  inquiry  how  the  resolution  has 
been  kept. 

It  will  be  well  to  say,  in  conclusion,  one  word  of 
advice  as  to  the  sort  of  principle  w^hich  it  is  desirable  to 
choose  for  the  purpose  of  building  upon  it  a  holy  life. 
Choose  not,  then,  too  narrow  a  principle, — by  which  I 
mean  one  which  gives  no  scope  for  exercise  or  trial,  ex- 
cept on  rare  occasions.  Suppose,  for  example,  that 
submission  to  the  will  of  God  under  the  loss  of  friends 
were  chosen  as  the  principle.  There  is  not  here  room 
enough  for  every-day  practice.     Bereavement,  much  as 


IV  ]  in  the  Service  of  Ood.  317 

it  behoves  us  to  conduct  ourselves  w.Il  \<. lu--  't  .]ocs 
omo,  is  of  rare  ocourronco 

On  the  other  hand,  too  broad  a  principle  wUl  destroy 
the  unity  of  aim  and  endeavour,  which  is  recommended. 
Too  broad  a  principle  is  in  fact  more  principles  than 
one,  and  so  defeats  the  end.  For  which  reason,  if  the 
principle  fixed  upon  bo  very  broad,  it  will  be  wise  to 
narrow  it  a  little  in  the  earlier  stages  of  the  spiritual 
life,  that  our  attention  may  not  be  distracted  and  our 
resolve  enfeebled,  by  multiplicity  of  detail.  Not  of 
course  that  we  may  excuse  ourselves  from  the  obliga- 
tion of  any  part  of  God's  Law;  but  that  unity  of  effort 
ill  striving  after  its  observance,  the  setting  before  us 
one  thing  as  for  the  time  supremely  needful,  is  the  true 
secret  of  keeping  it  at  all. 

Finally,  choose  a  principle  to  which  your  mind  is 
naturally  drawn  when  in  a  right  frame.  We  are  all 
attracted  by  different  lines  of  thought  in  religion,  and 
no  man  has  a  right  to  impose  upon  his  neighbour  his 
own  line.  If  you  read  the  Scriptures  daily  with  prayer, 
simplicity,  and  thoughtfulness,  it  cannot  fail  that  some 
of  the  thoughts  which  arise  upon  them  will  be  made  to 
breathe  and  burn  in  your  heart.  So  came  homo  tho 
words  of  Jesus  to  the  disciples  on  the  road  to  Emmaus, 
while  He  talked  with  them  by  the  way,  and  while  II/3 
opened  to  them  the  Scriptures.  Consider,  when  you 
receive  these  inspirations,  whether  they  may  not  be 
iivcn  for  some  special  purpose;  whether  they  may  not 
take  shape  in  some  definite  practical  resolve. 

We  have  pointed  out  one  method  of  obviating  those 
distractions  which  are  so  baffling  to  Christian  progress, 
and  wo  will  end  by  a  general  counsel  to  cultivate  quiet- 
ness of  mind  in  all  other  ways  as  well  as  in  this. 
Never  shall  we  attain  to  holiness,  so  long  as  wo  are 


318  On  Unity  of  Effort,  [pari 

careful  and  troubled  about  many  things.  Cares  and 
anxieties,  even  of  a  spiritual  character,  must  be  thrown 
upon  God ;  the  mind  must  be  absolutely  unburdened  of 
them ;  and  we  must  leave  our  Father  to  provide  for 
them,  when  the  need  arises.  If  business  presses,  one 
thing  must  be  done  at  a  time,  well  rather  than  rapidly, 
and  whatsoever  affair  is  not  immediately  imminent,  must 
be  left  to  settle  itself  as  best  it  may.  Scruples  of  con- 
science, those  great  foes  of  progress,  must  be  overcome 
by  taking  a  healthy  and  manly  view  of  the  duties  of 
religion,  by  fixing  our  minds  upon  its  great  essentials, 
and  sometimes  by  communicating  the  case  to  a  discreet 
and  pious  adviser.  But  sins, — actual  and  humbling 
falls, — may  not  these  legitimately  distress  and  harass 
the  mind,  and  make  the  hands  hang  down,  and  palsy 
the  knees  ?  No  ;  not  if  the  true  policy  in  such  cases 
is  rightly  understood.  Take  the  fall  as  another  in> 
pressive  lesson  of  the  utter  vanity  of  self-reliance,  and 
the  uttter  depravity  of  thy  ow^n  nature.  Go  straight 
to  the  Good  Physician,  whose  doors  are  ahvays  open, 
and  ask  Him  to  heal  thy  guilt  with  His  Blood,  thy  fall- 
en will  with  His  Grace.  Never  did  petitioner  apply 
to  Him  for  bodily  healing  who  failed  to  obtain  it.  Is  it 
conceivable  that  He  will  be  less  gracious,  when  we  come 
to  Him  to  sue  for  the  supply  of  our  spiritual  wants  1 
Who  put  it  into  our  hearts  to  sue  ?  Who  draws  us  to 
His  footstool  %  Who  but  Himself?  And  will  He  reject 
the  prayer  of  His  own  instigation  % 

"  How  shall  our  Divine  Shepherd,  who  followed 
after  His  lost  sheep  for  three  and  thirty  years  with 
loud  and  bitter  cries  through  that  painful  and  thorny 
way,  wherein  He  spilt  His  heart's  blood  and  laid 
down  His  life, — how  shall  He  refuse  to  turn  His 
quickening  glance  upon  the  poor  sheep  which  now  follow 


IV.]  Oftht  Way,  Ac,  819 

Him  with  ji  desire,  thougli  sometimes  faint  and  fooble, 
to  oboy  Ilini?  If  He  ceased  not  to  search  most 
diligently  for  the  blind  and  deaf  sinner,  the  lost  piece  of 
money  of  the  Gospel,  till  lie  found  Him ;  can  He  aban 
ion  one,  who,  like  a  lost  sheep,  cries  and  calls  pitcously 
upon  his  Shepherd  ?  If  the  Lord  knocks  continually  at 
the  heart  of  man,  desiring  to  enter  in  and  sup  there, 
and  to  communicate  to  it  His  gifts,  who  can  believe  that 
when  that  heart  opens  and  invites  Ilim  to  enter,  He  will 
turn  a  deaf  ear  to  the  invitation,  and  refuse  to  come 
in  '  ?  " 


CHAPTER  I 


OF  TUi:  WAY  IN  Wllicn  WE  SHOULD  SEEK  TO 
KDIFY  OTHEES. 

"  Ltt  your  light  so  jshine  before  nun,  thai  they  may  «ee  your 
good  toorksj  and  glorify  your  Father  which  is  in  heavenJ*'* — 
Matt.  t.  15. 

Nothing  is  a  more  sure  and  regular  indication  of  the 
birth  of  true  religion  in  the  heart,  than  the  presence 
there  of  a  desire  to  do  good.  Desire  to  do  good  is  "  the 
spot  of  God's  children,** — the  spot  which  the  inward 
operation  of  His  Grace  throws  out  upon  the  surface  of 
the  moral  constitution.  No  devout  man  ever  lacked 
altogether  this  uniform  mark  of  a  devout  mind.  For 
did  not  Our  Lord  go  about  doing  good  ?  And  is  Ho 
not  our  great  Exemplar?  And  must  not  Christian 
men  seek  in  some  way  or  other  to  do  good,  if  they 

*  The  Spiritual  Corobatr  chap.  liL 


320  Of  the  Way  in  which  [paei 

would  at  all  conform  themselves  to  this  Exemplar  ? 
Such  is  the  implicit  reasoning  of  every  mind,  almost  on 
the  first  moment  of  its  taking  up  earnestly  with  Per* 
sonal  Religion.  And  who  shall  find  a  flaw  in  it,  or  say 
it  is  incorrect  1 

Yet  this  desire,  from  not  being  always  directed  in  the 
right  channel,  has  led  good  men  into  mistakes,  which 
have  not  only  laid  waste  their  own  spiritual  life,  and 
corrupted  the  fountains  of  piety  within  them,  but  have 
also  rent  the  seamless  vest  of  Christ,  and  introduced 
schism  into  that  Jerusalem,  which  was  originally  built 
as  a  city  that  is  at  unity  in  itself.  Instances  of  the 
latter  result  are  unhappily  of  frequent  occurrence 
among  the  middle  and  lower  classes  of  this  country. 
A  man  hitherto  licentious,  or  at  all  events  utterly 
thoughtless  and  godless,  receives  his  first  religious 
impressions  from  some  sermon  which  he  has  casually 
heard,  or  some  startling  dispensation  of  God's  Pro- 
vidence. The  religious  instinct  is  newly  created  in  him, 
and  operates  (partly  from  its  very  strangeness  to  the 
man's  ordinary  habits)  with  wonderful  freshness  and 
vigour.  Unhappily  for  him,  neither  he,  nor  any  one 
else  who  has  influence  with  him,  perceives  that  this 
instinct  needs  guidance.  It  is  a  strong  motive  power, 
like  steam  in  the  natural  world,  and  like  steam  it  may 
produce  an  explosion  and  do  mischief  as  well  as  convey 
passengers  along  a  road  or  across  an  ocean.  Unguided, 
and  abandoned  to  its  natural  operation,  it  too  often 
does  the  former.  The  man  feels,  (and  remember  that 
it  is  part  of  the  instinct  of  Grace  within  him  that  he 
should  feel,)  "I  must  do  good  to  my  neighbours." 
Then  comes  in  the  fallacy, — the  fundamental  mistake, 
— that  this  good  can  be  done  in  no  other  way  than  by 
preaching,  or,  in  other  words,  by  direct  religious  ad- 


I  V.J  we  should  seek  io  edify  Others.  32) 

monition^  designed  and  intended  to  edify.  Our  Lord 
proAchoti ;  and  before  lie  ascended,  Ho  said,  "  Go  yo 
and  preach  : "  accordingly  the  Apostles  preached :  St. 
Paul  preached ;  and  why,  this  new  convert  thinks, 
should  not  ho?  So  preach  he  will ;  and  if  his  circum- 
stances arc  such  that  ho  cannot  preach  in  the  church, 
ho  will  preach  in  a  meeting-house,  and  become  a  little 
focus  at  once  of  spiritual,  or  I  should  rather  say 
fanatical,  excitements  and  parochial  discontents.  So  ho 
gets  together  his  knot  of  disciples,  and  the  plain  brick 
building  of  studied  ugliness  is  reared,  and  the  good  old 
church,  with  its  solemn  and  reverend  services  and  un- 
exciting doctrine,  is  forsaken  by  some  who  indeed  never 
vielded  to  it  any  rational  or  intelligent  allegiance,  and 
the  schismatic  begins,  as  ho  conceives,  to  edify.  Now 
it  is  quite  clear  that  this  result  is  wrong ;  as  clear  as 
that  tho  main  motive  which  led  to  it  is  good.  Wo  are 
driven,  therefore,  to  infer  that  there  has  been  some  mis- 
take as  to  the  true  method  of  edifying  others,  which  has 
vitiated  the  conclusion. 

Let  us  examine  in  this  Chapter  the  nature  of  tho 
duty  of  edification,  and  ask  how  it  is  to  be  fulfilled  by 
persons  in  general. 

The  fundamental  passage,  on  which  the  duty  of 
Edification  is  built,  is  found  in  the  fiflh  chapter  of 
St.  Matthew, — "  Let  your  light  so  shine  before  men, 
that  they  may  see  your  good  works,  and  glorify  your 
Father  which  is  in  heaven."  It  should  be  remarked,  in 
reference  to  this  text,  that  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount, 
from  which  it  is  taken,  is  a  perfect  code  of  Christian 
Duty  ;  so  that  nothing  can  claim  to  be  a  general  duty, 
l>inding  on  all  disciples,  but  what  can  find  and  show  you 
its  place  in  that  Sermon.  I  say  binding  on  all  disciples ; 
i^.v  fn  ♦iin  <i ;<,.;,. 1-..,.  Yiot  exclusively  to  tho  Apostles,  was 


322  Of  i^^'i  Way  in  which  [part 

it  spoken.  And  we  may  observe,  in  passing,  that  griev- 
ous mistakes  are  occasionally  made,  by  the  indiscrimi- 
nate application  to  all  Christians,  of  what  was  said  to  the 
Apostles  of  Christ  in  their  Apostolic  characters.  Thus, 
the  words,  "  Go  ye  into  all  the  world,  and  preach  the 
Gospel  to  every  creature,"  are  often  ignorantly  quoted,  as 
if  they  made  the  literal  and  direct  evangelization  of  the 
world  the  duty  of  every  private  Christian.  Quite  as 
reasonably  might  it  be  maintained  that  all  Christians 
have  the  power  of  remitting  and  retaining  sins,  because 
to  the  Eleven  it  was  said,  *'  Whose  soever  sins  ye 
remit,  they  are  remitted ;  and  whose  soever  sins  ye 
retain,  they  are  retained."  Those  words  were  ad- 
dressed to  a  particular  body  of  men,  raised  up  to  per- 
form a  particular  work,  whose  gifts,  qualifying  them  for 
this  work,  w^ere  peculiar,  and  died  with  them,  never  to 
revive  ;  while  their  functions  are,  in  all  essential  points, 
continued  in  the  great  Office  of  the  Christian  Ministry. 
The  glorious  Sermon  on  the  Mount  is  of  no  such  limited 
scope,  but  embraces  within  the  compass  of  its  require- 
ments the  infant  of  days  who  was  baptized  yesterday, 
quite  as  much  as  the  hearers  who  sat  on  the  windy  hill- 
side listening  to  it,  and  thrilled  with  the  sweetness  and 
the  solemnity  of  the  Divine  Discourse.  Here,  then,  we 
are  to  seek  for,  and  hence  we  are  to  gather,  that  duty 
of  Edification  which  is  incumbent  upon  all  alike  ;  and 
thus  it  runs, — "  Let  your  light  shine  before  men." 

It  will  be  seen,  by  referring  to  the  context,  what  is 
the  precise  force  and  significance  of  this  precept.  The 
temptation  of  the  primitive  disciples,  who  lived  in  the 
days  when  persecution  was  abroad,  would  be  to  wrap  up 
in  their  own  bosoms  their  Christian  Profession,  so  that  it 
should  not  transpire  and  involve  them  in  trouble.  Is  it 
not  enough,  they  would  think,  to  believe  in  Christ  with 


IV.]  voe  should  seek  to  edify  Others.  323 

my  lieart,  witliout  tho  confession  of  tho  lips,  without 
apprising  a  scornful  and  malignant  world  of  my  con- 
victions t  In  reply  to  all  which  corrupt  reasonings,  Our 
Lord  tells  them  that  it  is  unlawful  for  them  in  any  way 
to  hido  or  obscure  their  profession.  Freely  allow  it  to 
transpire,  says  Ho, — for  such  is  his  sentiment,  clothed 
in  a  modern  dress, — yo  are  tho  light  of  the  world,  and 
God  has  not  kindled  this  light  of  grace  in  tho  midst 
of  a  crooked  and  perverse  generation,  in  order  that  it 
should  be  covered  up  or  hid.  "  Men  do  not  light  a 
candle,  and  put  it  under  a  bushel,  but  on  a  candlestick, 
and  it  giveth  light  unto  all  that  are  in  the  house.  Let 
your  light  so  shine  before  men,  that  they  may  sec 
your  good  works,  and  glorify  your  Father  which  is  in 
heaven."  Now  what  is  there  in  tho  passage,  thus  un- 
derstood, to  prove  that  Christians  generally  are  under 
the  obligation  of  giving  direct  religious  admonition  to 
their  neighbours  ?  Edification  by  example,  and  not  by 
admonition,  is  what  the  Lord  is  speaking  of ;  for  He 
says  distinctly,  "  Let  your  light  so  shine  before  men, 
that  they  may," — not  hear  your  good  words, — but  "  see 
your  good  works,  and  glorify  your  Father  which  is  in 
heaven."  Nor  does  He  prescribe  Edification  by 
example  for  the  sake  of  edification.  He  does  not  bid 
us  do  anything,  which  otherwise  wo  would  not  havo 
done,  for  tho  sole  purpose  of  edifying  another  man. 
He  does  not  say,  **  Strive  to  fix  attention  on  your  good 
works,  and  to  make  them  arrest  observation ; "  He  does 
not  say,  "  Wave  tho  light  about,  and  flourish  it  in  tho 
air,  and  say  to  all  tho  world.  Take  notice,  brother,  hero 
is  a  light ; "  but  what  He  says  is  simply,  Aa/n^arto,  Let 
it  shine.  Every  light  will  and  must  shine  as  a  mat- 
ter  of  course,  and  must  enlighten  all  that  are  in  tho 
chamber,  unless  there  is  an  intervening  obstacle  in  the 


324  Of  the  Way  in  ivhich  [paet 

way  ;  and  what  our  Lord  forbids,  is  the  placing  such 
an  obstacle  in  the  way  through  moral  cowardice  'and 
fear  of  man's  censure.  Christian,  come  out  and  be 
seen  !  No  slinking  there  into  a  dusky  corner,  in  order 
that  your  world-opposed  ways  may  escape  a  sneer.  Let 
men  see  you  evidently  conducting  yourself  on  super- 
natural principles,  living  above  the  world,  quietly  and 
unostentatiously  serving  God  in  your  vocation.  Be 
much  in  Communion  with  God ;  strive  to  adorn  your 
profession  with  every  grace ;  while  at  the  same  time 
you  do  not  shun  the  world's  eye  or  naake  the  smallest 
compromise  of  principle. 

You  see  that  all  this  falls  fxr  short  of,  or  rather  is 
an  entirely  different  thing  from,  a  general  exhortation 
to  edify  by  admonition.  Without  denying  that,  under 
certain  circumstances,  such  admonition  may  be  a  part 
of  our  duty  towards  our  neighbour,  it  is  certain  that 
(even  under  such  circumstances)  it  is  a  delicate  and 
difficult  task,  and  not  without  certain  dangers  for  both 
parties  concerned. 

It  may  be  of  use  briefly  to  point  out  some  of  the 
dangers. 

First.  The  religious  admonition  of  others,  where  wo 
have  no  definite  call  to  the  work,  proceeds  upon  an 
assumption  of  superiority  in  the  person  admonish- 
ing, the  acting  upon  which  is  likely  to  dcvelope  and 
strengthen  spiritual  pride.  Surely  the  assumption 
that  I  am  better  than  the  man  whom  I  propose  to 
admonish,  might  prove  to  be  basejess,  if  I  knew  more. 
We  are  wholly  ignorant  of  another's  inner  life;  w^e 
can  never  look  deeper  than  the  outward  appearance. 
He  may  be  dry,  and  cold,  and  hard  (to  all  appearance), 
and  irresponsive  to  religious  appeals;  and  yet  it  is 
possible   that   that   irresponsiveness   may  come  from 


iv.J  we  should  seek  to  edify  Others.  326 

intensity  of  rovcrenoc,  and  from  the  fact  that,  >vhilc 
niino  is  a  shallow  character,  his  is  a  deep  one.  And  this 
is  certain,  that  I  am  conscious  of  far  more  evil  in  my- 
self, than  ever  has  transpired  to  my  knowledge  as  exist 
ing  in  him.  Of  course,  the  case  is  wholly  different,  if 
1  have  a  commission  to  instruct  him,  or  if  our  relative 
positions  in  society,  as  in  the  case  of  master  and  ser- 
vant, teacher  and  scholar,  make  it  my  duty  to  do  so. 
The  admonition  then  rests  upon  the  commission,  or  upon 
my  position  in  Society,  both  which  are  quite  indepen- 
dent of  my  own  religious  attainments.  But  when  I  have 
nothing  but  those  religious  attainments  to  rest  it  upon, 
I  should  surely  be  rather  chary  of  admonition  than 
otherwise,  unless  it  is  a  very  clear  case  that  my  religious 
attainments  are  superior  to  his. 

Secondly.  Such  admonition  is  almost  always  a  fail 
ure.  The  feeling  that  he  is  to  be  lectured,  and  that  toe 
by  one  who  cannot  found  any  claim  upon  his  position, 
generally  sets  a  man's  bristles  up,  and  puts  him  at  once 
into  an  attitude  of  hostility  to  truth,  which  drives  out 
the  little  grace  that  there  may  be  in  him.  No ;  if  we 
wish  (as  every  Christian  must  wish)  to  do  good  to 
others,  let  us  pave  the  way  by  little  acts  of  help,  kind- 
ness, and  self  sacrifice  shown  to  our  neighbour  when  in 
in  a  difliculty.  Let  us  live  hard  by  him  in  such  a  man- 
ner that  the  most  careless  observer  cannot  help  observ- 
ing that  we  are  conducting  ourselves  upon  Christian 
principles.  A  time  will  come,  perhaps,  when  he  will 
say  of  us,  under  distress  and  convictions,  "  1  believe 
that  his  religion  is  something  more  than  talk  ;  for  I  have 
seen  his  light  shining  before  men  ;  and  I  shall  go  to  him 
and  ask  his  advice."  Then,  acting  on  the  same  princi- 
ple which  we  have  hitherto  observed  towards  him,  we 
may  give  him  all  the  help  we  can  in  the  way  of  advice^ 


326  Of  the  Way  in  which  [paei 

but  still  without  parade,  or  pretence  to  more  than  we 
really  know  or  have  felt, — without  flashing  the  light  in 
his  eyes. 

Thirdly.  The  diffusion  of  spiritual  feeling — its 
being  allowed  to  come  abroad  too  freely  (and  it  must 
more  or  less  come  abroad  in  religious  conversation) — is 
any  thing  but  healthy  for  this  delicate  plant.  If  any 
man  questions  this,  I  say,  "  Go  and  try."  Take  a  very 
intimate  and  confidential  friend ;  and  divulge  freely  to 
him,  by  letter  or  otherwise,  what  are  called  your  reli- 
gious experiences,  your  feelings  in  prayer  and  medi- 
tation, your  delight  in  certain  parts  of  the  Holy 
Scriptures,  and  so  forth.  Of  course,  admonition  may 
be  given  much  short  of  this  ;  but  yet  such  an  effusion 
of  the  heart  is  the  direction  in  which  admonition  is 
tending,  for  it  always  implies,  and  almost  always 
expresses,  something  of  spiritual  feeling  in  the  ad- 
monisher.  Well ;  are  you  any  the  better  for  it,  when 
it  is  done  %  Is  prayer  more  or  less  easy,  when  you  have 
thus  unburdened  your  heart  ?  Has  not  the  odour  of 
devotion  lost  something  of  its  fragrance  and  freshness, 
by  being  allowed  too  freely  to  come  abroad  1  It  is  sure 
to  transpire  any  how,  if  you  will  simply  let  it  alone ; 
but  you  cannot  force  vents  for  it,  without  doing  it 
mischief. 

We  have  said  enough  to  counteract  the  mistalcen  no- 
tion of  the  way  in  which  the  Edification  of  others  should 
be  carried  on,  and  will  just  exhibit  in  conclusion  the 
positive  side  of  this  duty. 

In  a  word,  then,  we  are  not  so  much  to  aim  at  the 
edification  of  others,  as  to  set  a  wholesome  example,  and 
to  see  that  there  are  no  obstructions  in  the  way  of  our 
edifying. 

Kesolveto  know  much  of  the  inward  life  of  Religion. 


i   .  I  we  should  seek  to  edify  Others.  Wl^t 

Cultivato  in  every  possible  way  a  spirit  of  private 
lo-votion.  Dctormino  to  know  the  power  of  Pniycr,  as 
tlistinet  from  its  form.  Practise  more  and  more  in  all 
companies,  and  under  all  circumstances,  tlio  tliought  of 
the  Presence  of  God.  Seek  more  and  more  to  throw  a 
spiritual  meaning  and  significance  into  your  pursuit;  to 
do  it  more  simply  and  exclusively  from  the  motive  of 
pleasing  God,  and  less  from  all  other  motives.  Try,  by 
a  holy  intention,  to  give  even  to  the  more  trifling  actions 
of  the  day  a  religious  value.  This  will  be  feeding  the 
light  with  oil. 

Tlien  as  to  not  obstructing  it.  Never  lower  your 
l>rinciples  to  the  world's  standard.  Never  let  sin,  how- 
over  popular  it  may  be,  have  any  sanction  or  counte- 
nance from  you,  even  by  a  smile.  The  manly  confes- 
sion of  Christ,  when  His  cause  is  unpopular,  is  made 
by  Himself  the  condition  of  His  confessing  us  before 
men.  If  people  find  out  that  we  are  earnestly  religious, 
as  they  soon  will,  if  the  light  is  shining,  let  us  make 
them  heartily  welcome  to  the  intelligence,  and  allow 
ihem  to  talk  and  criticize  as  much  as  they  please.  And 
then,  again,  in  order  that  the  lights  may  shine  without 
obstruction,  in  order  that  it  may  easily  transpire  what 
we  arc,  we  must  be  simple,  and  study  simplicity.  This 
is  by  no  means  so  easy  as  it  at  first  sight  appears ;  for 
in  this  highly  artificial  and  pretentious  ago  all  Society 
is  overlaid  with  numerous  affectations.  Detest  affecta- 
tion, as  the  contrary  of  truth,  and  as  hypocrisy  on  a 
small  scale ;  and  allow  yourself  freely  to  be  seen  by 
those  around  you  in  your  true  colours.  There  is  an 
affectation  of  indifference  to  all  things,  and  of  alack  of 
general  sensibility,  which  is  becoming  xcry  prevalent 
in  this  age,  and  which  is  the  sworn  foe  to  all  simpli- 
city of  character.     The  persons  who  labour  under  this 


328  Of  the  Way,  dx.  [pari 

moral  disorder  pretend  to  have  lost  their  freshness 
of  interest  m  every  thing;  for  them  as  they  would 
have  it  believed,  there  is  no  surprise  and  no  enthusiasm. 
Without  assuming  that  they  arc  really  the  unimpres- 
sionable creatures  which  they  would  make  themselves 
out  to  be,  we  may  warn  them  that  the  wilful  dissem- 
bling of  a  generous  emotion  is  the  way  to  suppress  it. 
As  Christians,  we  must  eschew  untruth  in  every  form  ; 
we  must  labour  to  seem  just  what  we  are,  neither  bet- 
ter nor  worse.  To  be  true  to  God  and  to  the  thought 
of  His  Presence  all  day  long,  and  to  let  self  occupy  as 
little  as  possible  of  our  thoughts ;  to  care  much  for 
His  approval,  and  comparatively  little  for  the  impres- 
sion we  are  making  on  others ; — to  feed  the  inward 
light  with  oil,  and  then  freely  to  allow  it  to  shine, — this 
is  the  great  secret  of  Edification.  May  He  indoctrinate 
us  into  it,  and  dispose  and  enable  us  to  illustrate  it  in 
our  practice ! 


IV.]  In  what  the  Sjnrittial  Life  conmtn,  320 

CHAPTER  IV. 

IN  WDAT  THE  8PIEITUAL  LIFE  CONSISTS. 

/.7t,  and  taught  tJtem^  faying^  Biased 

..,>    .,.-  y,..,  yw...  yl>r  theirs   is  tlu  kingdom   of  luaven. 

Blessed  are  they  that  mourn :  for  they  shall  be  comforted. 
Blessed  are  the  meek :  for  they  shall  inherit  (he  earth. 
Blessed  are  they  tchich  do  hunger  and  thirst  after  righteousness : 
for  they  shall  bejilled.  BUsud  are  tJu  merciful :  for  they  shall 
obtain  merejf,  BUued  an  tht  pure  in  heart :  for  tJuy  shall  ue 
God.  Blessed  are  the  peacemakers :  for  they  shall  be  called  tlu 
cJtildren  of  God.  Blessed  are  tliey  tchich  arc  persecuted  for  right- 
eousness^ sake :  for  theirs  is  the  kingdom  of  /icavenj" — Matt. 
V.  2—10. 

It  may  seem  somewhat  singular,  at  or  towards  the  end 
of  a  work,  which  has  been  devoted  to  the  subject  of 
Personal  Religion  to  give  an  answer  to  the  question, 
"  In  what  does  the  Spiritual  Life  consist  *?"  This  defi- 
nition, lying  as  it  does  at  the  foundation  of  the  whole 
subject,  should  have  been  made,  it  would  appear,  rather 
at  the  outset  than  the  close.  To  this  I  can  only  reply 
that,  if  not  formally  made  hitherto,  it  has  all  along 
been  presupposed,  implied,  and  often  explicitly  referred 
to ;  and  that  it  is  far  from  useless  at  the  close  of  any 
systematic  course  of  teaching  to  bring  out  into  full 
prominence  the  fundamental  idea  or  ideas  of  the  whole 
course,  before  finally  bidding  adieu  to  the  subject.  This 
must  be  my  justification  for  introducing  this  question 
at  so  late  a  period. 

In  what  then  does  the  Scriptural  Life  consist  ?  Unless 
the  answer  to  this  question  is  very  clearly  defined  in 
our  own  minds,  we  shall  assuredly  never  make  any 
solid   attainment,  but   shall    be   always  building  and 


330  In  what  the  Spiritual  Life  consists.       [rAiii 

unbuilding,  "  ever  learning  and  never  able  to  come  to 
the  knowledge  of  the  Truth," — and  all  from  a  funda- 
mental blunder  or  confusedness  of  thought. 

First,  then,  by  way  of  clearing  away  popular  and 
prevalent  errors,  we  may  broadly  assert  these  negative 
positions,  that  the  Spiritual  Life  consists  neither  in 
ordinances,  nor  in  actions,  not  yet,  as  some  seem  to 
imagine^  in  activities.  Let  not  the  assertion  be  mis- 
understood. The  Scriptural  Life  is  closely  connected 
with  ordinances,  actions,  and  activities, — but  it  no  more 
stands  in  these  things — it  is  no  more  ordinance,  or  ac- 
tion or  activity — than  the  life  of  a  tree  is  the  fruit  of 
the  tree,  or  the  means  for  cultivating  the  tree. 

1.  It  does  not  consist  in  Ordinances^  many  or  few. 
It  does  not  stand  in  many  prayers,  ejaculatory  or  stated, 
nor  in  hearing  many  Sermons,  nor  in  studying  many 
chapters  of  the  Bible,  nor  in  many  acts  of  Public 
Worship,  nor  even  in  many  Communions.  These  are 
means,  in  God's  Hand,  of  kindling  the  Spiritual  Life 
in  the  soul  of  man,  or  means  of  feeding  the  flames  when 
kindled ;  but  they  are  not  the  flame  itself,  they  are  not 
the  life.  It  may  be  very  necessary  for  a  fruit-tree,  in 
order  to  its  bearing  fruit,  that  its  roots  should  be  stirred 
with  the  spade,  overlaid  with  the  manure,  moistened 
with  the  watering-pot ;  but  nothing  can  be  clearer 
than  that  the  spade,  the  manure,  and  the  watering-pot 
are  distinct  things  from  the  life  of  the  tree.  Yet  so 
apt  are  we  (at  least  in  spiritual  subjects)  to  confound 
means  with  ends,  and  to  erect  the  means  into  an  end, — 
an  intellectual  perplexity,  indeed,  but  one  which  some- 
times appears  to  me  to  bear  a  trace  of  the  Fall,  and  to 
be  due  ultimately  to  the  corruption  of  our  nature, — 
that  even  religious  people  often  find  it  hard  to  conceive 
of  a  devout  life  in  the  absence  of  an  apparatus  of  ordi* 


IV.]  In  what  the  Spiritual  Life  consists, 

ii.u.v  rs :  whereas  it  b  quite  clear  that  such  might  exist 
wliere,  for  some  reason  or  other,  the  ordinances  could 
not  be  had  ;  in  wliich  case  God,  who  is  independent  of 
.trdinancos,  would  no  doubt  supply  tiieir  virtue  innne- 
,i  iislv  t,.  t1..>  <:()ul.  The  -whole  system  of  Monasticism 
ion  of  this  fundamental  error.  If  a  man 
ha:j  once  l)ruii^'ht  himself  to  believe  that  vital  religion 
is  not  only  much  helped  by  ^which  is  true),  but  actually 
stands  tn,  the  study  and  meditation  of  God's  Word, 
and  stated  acts  of  worship,  private  and  public, — of 
course  it  is  only  the  logical  sequence  from  such  a 
view  that,  dismissing  secular  aflairs  altogether,  and  re- 
tiring from  Society,  ho  should  abandon  himself  wholly 
to  these  exercises  of  Religion.  But  if,  on  the  other 
hand,. it  is  perceived  and  acknowledged  that  ordinances 
exist  for  tlie  sake  of  living  well,  that  is,  devoutly  and 
i>iritually,  it  is  then  seen  to  be  a  mistake  and  an  inver- 
sion of  the  reasonable  method  of  proceeding  to  live  for 
Ordinances^  which  is  precisely  the  principle  of  mon- 
astic life.  It  is  a  very  pregnant  saying  of  our  Blessed 
Lord's,  **  that  the  Sabbath  was  made  for  man,  and  not 
njau  for  the  Sabbath."  We  may  apply  it  not  merely 
to  the  observance  of  Sunday,  but  to  all  those  ordinances 
which  the  seventh  day  of  rest  represents,  and  with 
which  it  is  associated  in  our  minds.  These  ordinances 
are  made  for  you,  not  you  for  them.  They  are  de- 
signed to  bless  your  inner  spirit  with  love,  and  joy,  and 
peace  ;  not  designed  to  be  an  iron  frame,  a  Procrustean 
bed,  to  the  measure  of  which  that  inner  spirit  is  pain- 
fully to  cramp  itself.  Accordingly,  wherever  Our  Lord 
and  His  Apostles  touch  upon  the  essence  and  vitals  of 
true  religion,  there  is  an  ominous  silence  as  to  ordinance, 
liov/ever  explicitly  ordinances  may  be  recommended  in 
other  connexions.     The  beginning  of  the  Divine  Ser- 


332  In  what  the  Spiritual  Life  consists.        [pari 

mon  on  the  Mount  goes  to  the  root  of  the  matter,  and 
answers  the  fundamental  question, — "  In  what  does 
true  religion  stand  1 "  Our  Lord  is  there  describing 
not  the  furniture,  food,  and  clothing  of  the  Spiritual 
Life,  but  the  very  life  itself,  which  is  more  than  meat, 
and  the  very  body,  which  is  more  than  raiment. 
And  not  a  single  ordinance  is  mentioned  from  beginning 
to  end  of  the  Beatitudes.  Where  St.  Paul  details  the 
fruits  of  the  Spirit,  the  same  silence  is  observable. 
And  his  compendious  and  noble  description  of  the 
kingdom  of  God  in  the  human  soul  runs  thus :  "  The 
kingdom  of  God  is  not  meat  and  drink," — it  stands  not 
in  outward  institutions,  but  in  interior  affections, — 
"  but  righteousness,  and  peace,  and  joy  in  the  Holy 
Ghost." 

2.  The  Spiritual  Life  does  not  consist  in  actions. 
The  actions  are  the  result,  the  fruit,  but  they  are  not 
the  life  of  the  tree.  Yet  how  frequently,  in  the  popular 
estimate  of  the  subject,  are  the  two  confounded.  How 
gladly  would  many  accept  this  definition  as  perfectly 
adequate,  and  as  exhausting  the  subject — "  The  life  of 
true  religion  is  a  life  of  usefulness,  full  of  good  works 
and  almsdeeds  which  are  done  ! "  There  is,  of  course,  no 
question  that  where  the  life  of  true  religion  exists,  it 
produces  these.  "  Every  good  tree,"  says  Our  Lord, 
"  bringeth  forth  good  fruit.  But  though  the  circula- 
tion of  the  sap  secures  the  production  of  the  fruit,  the 
fruit  is  not  the  same  thing  as  the  circulation  of  the  sap. 
Minds  which  recoil  from  the  idea  of  a  life  devoted 
exclusively  to  ordinances,  are  often  apt  to  fall  into  this 
opposite  error.  The  sum  and  substance  of  true  religion 
in  their  view  is  merely  the  going  about  doing  good. 
If  the  good  is  done,  if  the  hungry  are  fed,  the  ignorant 
educated,  the  miserable  relieved,  they  look  no  deeper 


IV.  I  In  what  the  Spiritual  Life  consists,  333 

nor  ask  anything  more ;  this  they  think  is  tnie,  deep, 
practical  religion.  But  suppose  the  case  of  a  man, 
entirely  destitute  of  resources  and  abilities,  labouring  on 
pcrseveringly  for  the  good  of  his  fellow-creatures  in  a 
very  humble  sphere,  yet  blessed  with  no  visible  success, 
because  he  has  none  of  the  instrumentality  necessary  to 
secure  success, — they  might  rather  hesitate  to  put  him 
on  a  level  with  the  supporter,  patron,  and  advocate  of 
many  charities,  whereas  it  is  quite  conceivable  that  in 
the  eyes  of  God  he  stands  on  a  far  higher  level.  The 
tendency  of  our  mind,  which  seeks  every  where 
'  T  definite  and  tangible  results,  strongly  inclines  us 
1  >  estimate  character  by  outward  usefulness.  We  take 
instinctively  a  hard  external  view  of  the  fruits  of  the 
Spirit,  looking  at  the  thing  done  rather  than  at  the 
mind  of  the  doer.  Whereas  the  Apostle  Paul,  in  his 
enumeration  of  those  fruits,  does  not  mention  a  single 
action,  but  merely  a  series  of  tempers, — "  love,  joy, 
peace,  long-suffering,  gentleness,  goodness,  faith,  meek- 
ness, temperance." 

3.  We  said,  lastly,  that  the  Spiritual  Life  does  not  con- 
sist in  activities,  that  is,  in  intensified  action.  And  we 
think  the  warning  particularly  needed  in  our  own  Church 
at  the  present  day.  From  one  cause  or  another  we  have 
a  great  deal  of  religious  activity  among  us.  This  activity, 
however,  is  by  no  means  exclusively  due  to  religion ; 
religion,  like  every  thing  else,  takes  its  colouring  from 
the  spirit  of  the  age.  Now  the  spirit  of  the  age  is  to 
\)Q  stirring,  to  hate  and  abolish  sinecures,  to  let  no  man 
rest  upon  his  oars.  We  all  of  us  catch  something  of 
this  spirit,  which  is  about  in  the  air  just  now,  and  our 
religion,  like  every  other  part  of  our  character,  takes  a 
certain  tone  from  it.  We  discover  (ivhat  is  awfully 
true)  that  thore  is  a  vast  mass  of  misery  and  sin  lying 


334  In  what  the  Spiritual  Life  consists.        [faki 

at  our  very  doors.  So  we  say,  "  Let  us  be  busy,  and 
mend  matters  to  the  best  of  our  ability."  The  national 
genius  here  comes  in  to  swell  the  tide  of  practical 
enthusiasm.  We  are  always  indisposed  to  specula- 
tion, always  prompt  to  action.  What  an  apparatus 
of  philanthropy  has  been  created  by  the  spirit  of 
religious  enterprise, — special  services,  special  sermons, 
schools  of  all  sorts  and  for  all  classes,  refuges  and  re- 
formatories, hospitals  and  houses  of  mercy,  meetings, 
addresses  from  platforms, — like  a  forest  of  masts  crowd- 
ing upon  the  eye  in  some  busy,  noisy  dock  !.  Religious 
people  are  working  in  earnest,  and  with  great  zest. 
And  shall  I  say  that  the  zest  is  in  some  cases  increased 
by  the  miserable  controversies  of  the  times,  on  which 
we  have  fallen  1  I  do  really  believe  it  is  so.  There 
are  many  worthy  people,  young  men  entering  the 
Ministry  more  especially,  who  have  been  sickened  by 
controversies  of  religious  doctrines  altogether.  They 
are  shocked  by  the  extravagances  which  they  have  wit- 
nessed on  one  side  and  the  other ;  and  they  cry  out 
with  Pilate,  "What  is  truth?"  Tiien  follows  the 
mischievous  inference,, "  The  less  we  look  into  the  spe- 
culative questions  of  religion  altogether,  the  less  we 
seek  any  definiteness  of  view  on  doctrinal  subjects,  the 
happier  will  be  our  minds  and  the  greater  our  useful- 
ness. Religion  has  another  side,  the  practical;  and  to 
that  side  we  will  give  our  whole  minds  ;  we  will  bury 
ourselves  .in  our  work,  and  thank  God  there  is  enough 
of  it  to  divert  us  effectually  from  speculation."  If  this 
tendency  should  operate  much  more  extensively  among 
us,  we  shall  soon  lose  all  dogma,  that  is,  all  precise 
statements  of  Christian  doctrine, — and  as  Christian 
practice  is  no .  separable  thing  from  Christian  doctrine.^ 
but  dependent  upon  it  for  its  vitality,  it  may  easily  ba 


IV.]  In  what  the  Spiritual  Life  consists.  335 

conceived  that  wo  are  approximating  to  a  very  sad 
state  of  tiling.  Positive  sceptical  tendencies  operate 
ill  the  Siinio  direction  ;  the  insniuation  of  modern  seep-, 
tics  being  that  the  duties  of  Christianity  are  its  only 
essential  part,  and  that,  if  the  fulfilment  of  these 
duties  be  secured,  the  end  is  answered  ;  its  facts, — the 
Incarnation,  Crucifixion,  and  Resurrection, — need  not 
be  supposed  to  be  historical  events  at  all,  but  may  be 
relegated  to  the  domain  of  allegory,  and  looked  upon  as 
jnous  and  edifying  myths.  Perplexed  by  these  wicked 
doubts,  seeing  that  they  are  wicked,  and  yet  unable 
satisfactorily  to  resolve  them, — there  is  many  an  ex- 
cellent man  now-a-days,  who  is  taking  refuge  in  his 
work,  and  feels  that,  while  he  is  doing  all  the  good  in 
his  power,  his  foot  is  planted  upon  an  impregnable  rock, 
from  which  it  cannot  be  moved.  Hence  at  this  perio«l 
of  the  religious  history  of  our  country  more  especially, 
the  people  of  God  need  to  be  warned  that  the  Spiritual 
Life  does  not  stand  in  religious  activities,  however  in- 
tense  and  fervent,  but  in  something  more  internal. 

U.  In  what  then, — this  is  our  next  point, — does  it 
stand  1  Our  Lord  and  His  Apostles  give  one  very 
unequivocal  answer.  *'  The  kingdom  of  God,"  says 
Paul,  "  is  righteousness,  and  peace,  and  joy  in  the  Holy 
Ghost."  "  Giving  all  diligence,"  says  Peter,  as  to  the 
one  thing  needful, ''add  to  your  faith,  virtue ;  and  to 
virtue,  knowledge ;  and  to  knowledge,  temperance ;  and 
to  temperance,  patience ;  and  to  patience,  godliness ; 
and  to  godliness,  brotherly  kindness ;  and  to  brotherly 
kindness,  charity."  It  is  the  Master,  however,  who 
gives  the  fullest  and  most  methodical  description  of  the 
graces  which  constitute  the  Spiritual  Life.  And  in 
this  description  we  recognize  three  points,  first,  that 
the  Spiritual  Life  is  internal ;  secondly,  that  it  is  super- 


336  In  what  the  Spiritual  Life  consists.        [paei 

natural;  and,  thirdly,  that  it  is  developed  amid  the 
trials  and  antagonisms  of  daily  life. 

First ;  it  is  internal.  It  consists  in  a  series  of  dis- 
positions wrought  in  the  heart  by  the  power  of  the 
Holy  Ghost.  Any  life,  therefore,  which  is  not  more  or 
less  interior,  is  certainly  not  the  life  of  the  Spirit.  Any 
life  which  is  so  busy  as  to  leave  no  room  for  medita- 
tion and  devout  affection,  any  life  which  spends  all  its 
energies  in  external  work,  without  ever  rallying  or  re- 
collecting itself  at  its  source,  is  certainly  not  the  life  of 
the  Spirit.  Any  Martha's  life,  cumbered  about  much 
serving,  but  neglectful  of  sitting  at  the  feet  of  the 
Divine  Master,  is  certainly  not  the  life  of  the  Spirit. 
But  we  must  say  more.  Not  even  are  private  religious 
exercises,  independently  of  the  mind  with  which  they 
are  performed,  the  life  of  the  Spirit.  Confession  of  sin, 
without  a  deep  and  humbling  sense  of  it,  is  not  Spiritual 
Life.  And  what  must  we  say  of  a  deep  and  humbling 
sense  of  it  which  does  not  literally  take  the  outward 
form  of  confession  ?  We  must  say  that  with  God  it  is 
confession,  although  the  mouth  may  have  uttered  no 
sounds,  and  the  mind  framed  no  words.  The  asking  of 
God  certain  graces,  without  a  longing  to  be  holier,  is 
not  Spiritual  Life.  And  what  of  the  longing  to  be 
holier,  if  it  should  not  find  occasion  to  burst  forth  i^ 
actual  prayer  ?  It  is  prayer  in  God's  eyes,  and  no 
prayer  is  so,  which  does  not  involve  a  movement  of 
desire  in  the  heart. 

Secondly.  The  Spiritual  Life  is  supernatural.  We 
are  accustomed  to  confine  this  term  merely  to  the 
sphere  of  the  senses ;  we  mean  by  the  supernatural 
such  an  inversion  of  the  order  of  nature,  as  is  visible  to 
the  eye  or  ear.  But  there  miracles  of  the  inner,  as 
well  as  of  the  outer  man  ;  and  the  spiritual  life  is  such 


IV.]  In  what  the  Sj)iritua}  Life  consists,  337 

a  miracle  Tlierc  arc  hoathcu  virtues,  which  are  quite 
in  the  order  of  nature,  quite  on  nature's  level,  and  which 
nature,  with  the  ordinary  assistances  of  reason  and  the 
moral  sense,  has  produced.  Aristides  was  just;  and 
AUxander "was  generous ;  and  Diogenes  was  temperate  ; 
and  Pliny  was  amiable  ;  and  Leonidas  was  brave.  IJut 
poverty  of  spirit,  and  meekness  under  insults  and  op- 
pressions, and  the  rejoicing  under  persecutions,  and  the 
glory  in  tribulation,  and  the  mourning  over  sin,  those 
things  belong  to  a  diflferent  system  of  things  altogether, 
— a  system  which  reverses  the  order  of  nature  in  the 
heart  of  man.  It  is  a{iainst  nature  to  take  a  slight 
humbly,  dt"  to  accept  an  injury  sweetly  and  gently. 
And  because  it  is  against  nature,  you  might  educate  a 
heathen  most  carefully,  and  train  him  most  diligently 
from  his  childhood  upwards  in  all  good  habits,  and  yet 
never  bring  him  up  to  this  point.  This  effect  is  due  to 
a  Power  above  nature,  a  certain  thread  let  down  into 
the  soul  from  the  Risen  Humanity  of  Christ, — "  the 
power,"  as  St. .Paul  calls  it,  "which  worketh  in  us," 
and  which,  on  the  day  of  Pentecost,  descended  to  take 
up  Ilis  abode  in  the  Church. 

Thirdly.  The  Spiritual  Life^  by  the  very  d^nition 
of  it,  is  developed  amid  trial  and  antagonism.  We  see 
this  in  several  of  the  particulars.  "  Blessed  are  the 
meek  ;  for  they  shall  inherit  the  earth."  Who  are  the 
meek  1  When  is  meekness  seen  1  When  is  there  scope 
for  manifesting  it  1  There  is  no  scope,  except  in  cir- 
cumstances of  irritation  or  provocation.  There  is  no 
room  for  meekness  in  a  hermitage,  where  the  will  can 
never  be  thwarted,  and  where  there  are  none  of  the  jars 
and  collisions  of  daily  life.  There  is  no  such  thing  as 
meekness  without  antagonism,  cither  from  men  or  cir- 
cums^ccs.  To  feel  kindly  and  philanthropically  dis- 
15 


338  In  what  the  Spiritual  Life  consists.        [past 

posed,  when  all  men  speak  well  of  us,  and  no  cross 
word  is  thrown  in  our  teeth,  and  no  cross  incident  har- 
asses us,  is  not  meekness  at  all,  but  natural  benevolence, 
or,  if  you  will,  natural  amiability.  "  Blessed  are  the 
merciful ;  for  they  shall  obtain  mercy."  Mercy  is  not 
merely  goodness  ;  but  goodness  in  the  face  of  demerit. 
To  relieve  the  deserving  poor,  or  to  relieve  them  with- 
out any  remarkable  indesert  on  their  part,  is  not  neces- 
sarily to  be  merciful.  Mercy  presupposes  wrong  done 
against  the  agent,  of  which  he  might  take  advantage  to 
punish  us,  but  does  not.  Mercy  is  towards  the  unthank- 
ful and  evil,  and  can  only  manifest  itself  when  it  comes 
into  collision  with  such.  • 

We  make  also  one  more  remark,  in  casting  our  eye 
over  these  Beatitudes.  The  first  of  them  is  fundamen- 
tal, and  pervades  all  the  graces  of  the  spiritual  man. 
It  is  always  present  to  his  mind,  and  is  more  or  less 
matured  according  to  his  greater  or  less  growth  in  grace. 
"  Blessed  are  the  poor  in  spirit ;  for  theirs  is  the  king- 
dom of  heaven."  To  be  beaten  utterly  out  of  conceit 
with  one's  own  strength,  goodness,  and  wisdom,  to 
feel  that  apart  from  God's  Grace  w^e  are  nothing,  can  do 
nothing, — to  be  assured  that  our  best  resolves  are  like 
water  or  stubble, — to  re-echo,  with  the  full  and  in- 
telligent consent  of  our  hearts,  the.  Apostle's  confes- 
sion,  "  I  know  that  in  me,  that  is,  in  my  flesh,  dwelleth 
no  good  thing," — to  write  upon  our  old  nature  "In- 
corrigible," and  to  depend  with  great  simplicity  upon 
Christ  for  all  things, — this  is  the  grace  which  lies  at 
the  foundation  of  every  other,  and  which  is  matured, 
and  confirmed,  and  deepened  in  us  at  every  step  in 
advance. 

Apply  then,  reader,  the  criteria,  which  you  have 
just  heard,  in  the  examination  of  your  spiritual  state. 


I  V.J  /  (the  Spiritual  Life  consists.  339 

How  far  is  your  Christian  lifo  internal,  a  thing  hid  witli 
Christ  in  God,  and  to  bo  manifested  when  He  shall  ap- 
pear,— a  thing  of  spiritual  hopes,  and  foai-s,  and  joys, 
and  aspirations  1  How  far  is  your  heart  the  vineyard 
of  God,  fruitful  unto  Him  of  holy  dispositions,  and  the 
diligent  cultivation  of  which  is  your  chief  business, 
your  one  thing  needfuU  How  far  is  it  a  little  sanc- 
tuary of  worship,  screened  from  the  outer  world,  where 
the  light  of  a  good  and  single  intention  aspires  towards 
God  continually,  and  sheds  light  upon  all  that  is  in  the 
house  1 

Again;  are  we  deluding  ourselves  with  the  ima- 
gination of  possessing  certain  graces,  simply  because 
we  have  never  been  tried?  Are  we  dreaming  of  a 
Spiritual  Life,  without  an  active  manifestation  of  it  1 
Do  wo  fancy  ourselves  contented  because  we  are  pros- 
perous and  happy ;  or  pure,  because  we  are  consti- 
tutionally cold;  or  forgiving,  because  wo  are  never 
provoked  ?  or  peacemakers,  because  we  love  our  own 
case,  and  keep  aloof  from  the  affairs  of  our  fellow- 
men? 

And,  lastly,  if  God  indeed  vouchsafes  to  us  super- 
natural assistance,  should  not  our  virtues  correspond  to 
such  aids,  and  have  about  them  a  supernatural  cast? 
Shall  we  content  ourselves  with  the  cheap  easy-going 
virtues  of  men  of  the  world, — amiability,  integrity,  up- 
rightness, generosity?  Has  not  our  Judge  already 
asked  us  in  His  Holy  Word,  "What  do  ye  more  than 
others  ?  "  And  must  we  not  expect  Him  to  repeat  the 
question  for  each  of  us  individually,  when  we  stand  be- 
fore His  judgment-seat  at  the  great  Day  of  Account  ? 
Oh,  may  He  stir  within  us  now  that  spirit  of  holy  emu- 
lation,  that  hunger  and  thirst  after  righteousness,  which 
He  has  promised  not  to  disappoint,  that,  when  He  shall 


340  That  our  Study  of  God^s  Truth  [part 

appear,  we  may  have  confidence,  and  not  be  ashamed 
before  Him  at  His  coming  ! 


CHAPTER  V. 

THAT   OUE   STUDY  OF  GOD'S   TEUTH    MUST   BE   WITH  THE 
IIEAET. 

"  But  even  unto  this  day,  when  Moses  is  read,  tlie  vail  is  upon  their 
heart.  Nevertheless  when  it  shall  turn  to  the  Lord,  the  vail  shall 
be  taken  away^ — 2  Cor.  ill.  15,  16. 

We  purpose  to  employ  our  few  remaining  Chapters  in 
giving  certain  detached  counsels,  not  falling  under  any 
of  the  heads  which  we  had  marked  out  for  our  argu- 
ment, and  yet  which  seem  needed  in  order  to  give  it 
completeness. 

In  the  passage  which  stands  at  the  head  of  this 
Chapter,  the  intellectual  blindness  of  the  Jews  is 
traced  up  to  the  wrong  state  of  their  hearts.  And  it 
is  distinctly  said  that,  when  that  state  shall  become 
,right  from  having  been  wrong, — when  the  nation's 
heart,  which  has  hitherto  been  averted  from  Him, 
shall  "  turn  to  the  Lord," — then  the  intellectual 
difficulties  connected  with  the  reception  of  Christ  shall 
vanish  altogether, — "  the  vail  shall  be  taken  away." 
Indeed,  even  without  this  statement  of  the  Apostle's, 
we  could  have  gathered  that  this  was  the  account  to  be 
given  of  Jewish  unbelief.  The  miracles  wrought  by 
our  Lord  and  His  Apostles  were  so  stupendous  and 
overwhelming,  and  the  agreement  of  His  career  with 
the  Predictions  of  Prophecy  so  close,  that  the  convic- 
tions  of   that   generation  of  Jews    must  have   been 


IV.]  must  be  with  the  Heart,  341 

carried  by  force,  had  there  not  been  a  predisposition 
in  the  licart  not  to  bi'licvo.  As  soon,  therefore,  ns 
this  predisposition  shall  be  removed,  siiys  tlie  Apostle 
in  the  passage  before  us,  they  shall  forthwith  be  con- 
vinced :  "  when  their  heart  shall  turn  to  the  Lord,  the 
vail  shall  be  taken  away." 

We  shall  make  this  passage  the  foundation  of  some 
remarks  which  have  an  important  practiciil  bearing  on 
the  spiritual  life. 

Men  are  well  aware,  quite  independently  of  Religion, 
that  the  understanding  is  liable  to  be  prejudiced  by  the 
luait.  They  have  embodied  this  truth,  taught  them 
by  every  day's  experience,  in  the  old  saw,  '*  Love  is 
blind."  We  arc  quite  conscious  of  being  partial  to 
the  faults  and  weaknesses  of  those  in  whom  our  hearts 
ariT  deeply  interested.  We  should  exclude  from  the 
trial  of  a  man's  cause  both  his  warm  friends  and  his 
bitter  foes,  because  we  account  strong  sympathies  or 
antipathies  prejudicial  to  the  judgment.  And  as,  for 
the  most  part,  we  love  ourselves  better  than  other 
people,  a  man  of  fair  mind  would  exclude  himself  from 
any  share  of  an  arbitration  in  which  he  is  personally 
interested.  But  the  proverb  extends  to  our  judgment 
of  things,  quite  as  much  as  to  our  judgment  of  persons. 
Consider  only  this  very  common  case  in  the  experience 
of  all  of  us.  A  man,  in  his  cool  moments,  sees  some 
practice  which  requires  a  momentary  effort, — say,  for 
the  sake  of  illustration,  early  rising, — to  be  healthful 
and  expedient  for  him.  While  he  is  not  under  the 
temptation,  the  practice  seems  to  have  all  arguments 
in  its  favour,  nothing  against  it ;  but  as  soon  as  ever 
the  will  becomes  biassed  towards  a  longer  indulgence  of 
sleep  on  a  particular  morning,  what  a  number  of  most 
ingenious  arguments  spring  up  in  the  mind  for  this 


342  That  our  Study  of  God's  Truth  [part 

longer  sleep  !  In  the  raw  and  chilly  mornmg,  the 
question  of  early  rising  seems  to  wear  a  wholly  new 
aspect,  just  as  if  a  case  at  law,  the  determination  of 
which,  on  its  being  simply  stated,  seemed  a  matter  of 
common  sense,  had  been  argued  before  us  by  a  very 
plausible  and  specious  advocate.  In  truth,  it  has  been 
so  argued  before  us,  and  the  advocate  has  been  our 
own  will,  propense  to  indolence,  averse  to  exertion. 
This  is  a  very  humble  instance,  but  though  humble,  it 
is  one  which  may  come  home  to  all,  of  the  way  in 
which  the  bias  of  the  will  (or,  in  other  wprds,  the 
heart)  affects  the  view  which  the  mind  takes  of  any 
subject.  In  short,  the  mind  of  man, — the  faculty  by 
which  he  discerns  Ti'uth, — may  be  com])ared  to  an  eye 
placed  above  a  fuming  caldron,  which  can  see  nothing 
clearly,  because  the  vapours  intercept  the  vision. 
The  heart  is  the  caldron,  and  sends  up  the  vapours 
which  distort  the  view.  Now  in  seeking  to  reform 
Human  Nature,  the  philosophers  of  antiquity  either 
did  not  notice  this  fact,  or  (which  is  the  more  probable 
hypothesis)  did  not  see  how  the  difficulty  which  it 
presents  could  be  surmounted.  At  all  events,  by  way 
of  persuading  men  to  virtue,  they  made  their  appeal  to 
the  understanding,  and  sought  to  carry  their  point  by 
convincing  the  mind.  Socrates,  the  first  and  greatest 
of  all  the  ancient  philosophers  who  dealt  with  moral 
truth,  adopted  this  method.  He  saw  (and  here  he  was 
right)  that  men  were  not  so  fallen,  that  their  moral 
sense  made  no  response  to  Truth  and  Reason.  And  he 
thought  (and  here  he  was  grievously  mistaken)  that 
Truth  and  Reason,  if  forced  upon  men  powerfully 
and  luminously,  might  hold  their  own  against  the 
strength  of  passion.  He  commenced,  therefore,  by 
arguing  with  all  those  who  encountered  him,  as  to  the 


IV.]  must  be  wUh  the  Heart,  343 

truth  and  reasonableness  of  their  ways  of  acting  and 
thinking;  lie  called  in  question  popular  sentiment* 
and  conduct,  and  pressed  men  to  defend  them,  if  they 
could,  by  sheer  argument,  from  which  all  superfluous 
words  were  to  bo  carefully  excluded.  If  they  could 
not  defend  their  own  sentiments  and  conduct,  the 
implication  was,  of  course,  that  they  muet,  as  reason- 
able beings,  abandon  them.  As  far  as  the  understand- 
ing went,  nothing  could  bo  more  conclusive,  nothing 
could  more  shut  a  man  up  to  follow  virtue,  than  did 
this  method  of  Socrates's.  But  what  if  men  do  not, 
as  notoriously  they  do  not,  conclude  moral  questions 
afiecting  themselves,  on  the  mere  verdict  of  the 
understanding?  What  if  they  set  the  will  on  the 
judgment-seat?  give  him  the  power  of  summing  up, 
and  reviewing  the  arguments  of  the  understanding,  and 
finally  act,  not  as  they  see  to  be  right,  but  as  they 
wish  to  act,  in  moments  of  temptation  ?  Unless  you 
can  rectify  the  will  and  its  prepossessions,  you  only 
argue  before  a  corrupted  judge,  and  in  the  sentence  the 
argument  goes  for  nothing. 

Christianity,  in  seeking  to  reform  mankind,  proceeds 
on  a  method  entirely  the  reverse  of  this.  It  makes  its 
first  appeal  to  the  affections,  which  arc  th*  springs 
of  the  will,  and  through  them  clears  and  rectifies  tlie 
understanding. 

Historically,  Christianity  commenced  thus.  It  com- 
menced with  the  career  upon  Earth  of  Our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ, — a  career  which,  although  He  taught  spiritual 
Truth,  was  by  no  moans  one  of  an  ordinary  teacher. 
He  was  the  good  Shepherd,  who  came  down  from 
Heaven  to  seek  the  stray  sheep  in  the  wilderness  of 
the  world.  No  tale  has  so  deep  a  pathos  as  the  tale  of 
this  search  after  the  lost  sheep.      It  cost  the  Shepherd 


344  That  our  Study  of  God's  Truth  [pari 

every  species  of  hardship  and  endurance ;  it  cost  Him 
"  strong  crying  and  tears  ; "  it  cost  Him  an  agony  and 
blood-sweat;  it  cost  Plim  a  most  cruel   and  shameful 
death  upon  the  Cross.     He   went  through  it  all,  not 
willingly   only,  but  with  the   most  joyful  alacrity,  to 
serve  and  to  save  the  sheep.     He  met  with  no  return 
from   mankind  in  general,  but  calumny,  vituperation, 
execration.     Often   He   had   no  shelter  at  night,   (so 
inhospitable  was  the  world  to  Him,)  and  was  obliged 
to  stretch  His  limbs  upon  the  Mount  of  Olives,  under 
the   canopy  of  the   trees,  exposed   to   the   inclemency 
of  the  weather.      But   with  infinite   forbearance,  and 
amazing   condescension.    He   continued  His    work  of 
self-sacrifice  and  love,  knocking  at  the  door,  now  of 
this  heart,  now  of  that,  and  waiting  patiently  for  the 
response.     He  endured  all  things  heroically, — became 
the  very  impersonation  of  heroic  endurance, — for  our 
sakes,  that  His  voice  might  win  its  Avay  to  our  hearts. 
And  what  did  this  voice  communicate  %     What  may 
be  said  to  have  been  the  main  scope  of  Our  Lord's 
teaching?     Is  not  the  summary  of  it    to  be  found  in 
that  verse,  "  God  so  loved  the  world,  that  He  gave  His 
only  begotten  Son,  that  whosoever  believeth  in  Him 
should  not  perish,  but   have  eternal  life  1 "     Did  He 
not  come  to  reveal  "  the  Father,"  whose  name  was  so 
perpetually  on  His  lips  1     Did  He  not  come  to  declare 
the  Father's  Love,  the  Father's  yearning  compassion 
over  every  prodigal  child,  the  Father's  infinite  willing- 
ness to  receive  such  child  again  to   His  home  1     Was 
not  that  Apostolic  exhortation  only  a  prolonging  of 
the  echoes  of  the  Saviours  voice  :   "  We  pray  you,  as 
though  God  did  beseech  you  by  us,  be  ye  reconciled  to 
God  ?  "     Now  we  say  that  these  facts,  the  facts  of  the 
life  and  suflferings  and  teaching  of  Christ,  lie  at  the 


IV.]  must  be  with  the  Heart. 

foundation  of  Christianity, — that  thoso  arc  tho  impio* 
mcnts  with  which  Christianity  works, — that  this  is  tho 
method  in  which  God  approached  men,  witli  the  view 
of  achieving  their  reformation.  He  came  not  with  an 
argument,  though  Apostles  ilhistrated  tho  Trutli  l»y 
argument;  He  came  not  with  a  dogma,  thougli  tho 
Christian  Creed,  when  fully  developed,  embraces  many 
dogmas ;  but  Ho  came  with  the  pathos  of  self-devoted, 
self  sacrificing  Love.  The  Holy  Gospels,  which  record 
the  history  of  this  coming,  are  the  first,  and  in  every 
way  the  most  important  books,  in  the  canon  of  the 
New  Testament  Let  any  one  read  them  with  thor- 
ough simplicity  for  tho  first  time  in  his  life ;  or  if 
not  for  the  first  time,  yet  disenchanting  himself,  if  ho 
can  do  so,  of  the  effect  of  familiarity  with  the  contents ; 
and  ho  cannot  fail  to  bo  touched  by  them  in  a  salutary 
way,  especially  by  the  concluding  part  of  the  great 
story.  Aristotle  tells  us  that  Tragedy,  presenting  as 
it  does  some  example  of  virtue  under  stress  of  trial, 
purifies  the  passions,  and  clears  them  of  their  dregs. 
There  is  no  such  specific  for  the  production  of  this 
effect,  as  the  Tragedy  of  the  Death  of  Christ.  He 
who  has  been  drawn  by  the  Spirit  of  Grace  to  look  on 
that  Tragedy,  (and  thoso  who  are  not  so  drawn  find 
nothing  in  it  attractive,)  has  seen  and  sympathized 
with  persecuted  Goodness.  And  we  do  not  believe 
that  such  an  one  will  find  any  difficulty  in  the  doctrines 
of  the  Gospel, — that  of  the  Atonement,  for  example, — 
when  formally  propounded.  If  he  assaults  that  doctrine 
with  his  intellect  in  the  first  place,  he  will  no  doubt  fall 
into  endless  perplexities  on  the  subject.  But  let  him 
approach  it  by  the  avenue  of  the  heart,  through  the  door 
of  the  affections  and  sympathies ;  and  all  its  difficulty 
vanishes. 


346  That  our  Study  of  God's  Truth  [paeJ 

But  not  only  did  the  history  of  Christianity  com- 
mence  with  an  appeal  to  the  hearts  of  men ;  but  this  is 
the  order  which  Grace  observes  in  its  work  on  each  in- 
dividual soul. 

The  Scripture  says,  "  With  the  heart  man  belie veth 
unto  righteousness."  Justifying  faith  is  certainly  not 
a  mere  intellectual  conviction  of  the  truth.  That  there 
may  be  such  a  conviction,  quite  independently  of 
justifying  faith,  is  plain  from  the  fact  that  the  evil 
spirits  confessed  Our  Lord  to  be  the  Son  of  God,  and 
from  the  explicit  reference  which  St.  James  makes  to 
this  fact,  when  he  tells  us  that  "  the  devils  believe  and 
tremble."  We  are  driven,  then,  to  the  conclusion  that 
justifying  faith  is  an  operation  of  the  heart,  and  by 
consequence  of  the  will,  involving  a  movement  of  the 
affections  towards  the  thing  or  the  person  which  is  the 
object  of  faith.  If  any  of  God's  threatenings  be  the 
object,  faith  takes  the  shape  of  fear,  which  is  an  affec- 
tion. If  any  of  Ilis  promises  be  the  object,  faith  takes 
the  shape  of  Hope,  which  also  is  an  affection ;  and 
if  Christ  be  the  object  of  faith,  it  then  takes  the 
shape  of  trust  or  love.  Any  how,  it  is  well  for  us 
to  understand  that  the  mere  satisfaction  derived  by 
the  mind  from  external  evidence, — the  comfort  of  con- 
cluding, after  a  balance  of  arguments  on  either  side, 
that  Christianity  is  of  God, — though  it  may  be  a  very 
useful  auxiliary  to  vital  belief,  has  nothing  to  do  with 
the  essence  of  that  belief.  In  all  such  belief  there  is 
a  movement  of  the  heart  as  the  fundamental  process, 
although  it  is  quite  true  that,  as  the  result  of  this  move- 
ment, the  mind  is  subsequently  enlightened. 

All  this  will  be  readily  admitted,  so  far  as  the  ear- 
liest step  in  the  Christian  Life  is  concerned ;  but  we 
doubt  whether  it  is  sufficiently  considered  that  every 


IT.]  must  be  wilh  the  Heart,  347 

forwai-d  step  in  that  life  must  bo  made  on  the  same 
principle  as  the  first.  Wo  believe  that  every  move- 
nient  of  Graw,  as  well  as  the  first  movement,  is  an 
impulse  of  the  heart  It  is  quite  as  true  to  say,  "with 
tlio  heart  man  is  edified,"  as  it  is  to  say,  "  with  the 
heart  man  bdieveth."  For  there  is  no  true  edification 
without  faith ;  and  all  growth  in  grace  resolves  itself 
into  a  growth  of  faith. 

Now  let  us  somewhat  expand  and  practically  de- 
vclope  this  truth,  that  edification  is  through  the  heart, 
and  not  through  tlie  mind.  Let  us  mark  wliat  bearings 
it  has  on  the  conduct  of  the  spiritual  life. 

(1)  Observe  that  testimony  is  borne  to  it  by  the 
universal  experience  of  Christians.  What  is  that  im- 
palpable something,  which  if  an  inferior  Sermon  has,  it 
succeeds  in  doing  good,  but  if  a  superior  Sermon  lacks, 
It  fails  of  doing  good?  We  call  it  *' unction."  A 
Sermon  maybe  vcrylogical  without  unction,  admirably 
argued,  perfect  as  a  composition,  original  withal,  and 
possessing  the  great  merit  of  setting  old  truths  in  a 
new  light ;  and  yet  as  a  Sermon  it  shall  be  iudiflercnt, 
or  at  least  indifferent  in  the  estimate  of  spiritual  men, 
because  it  lacks  unction.  And  what  is  unction  ?  It 
is  hard  to  define,  no  doubt,  because  it  lies  more  in  the 
manner  of  saying  things  than  in  tho  things  said ;  and 
manner  is  always  hard  to  define.  Shall  we  err  if  wo 
say  that  by  unction  is  meant  a  fervent  way  of  throw- 
ing out  Divine  Truth,  corresponding  with  the  fervent 
character  of  that  Truth  ?  Unction  would  be  no  merit 
at  all,  but  tho  reverse,  if  the  Gospel  were  to  be  re- 
ceived by  the  intellect  rather  than  the  affections.  In 
any  thing  like  a  scientific  demonstration  of  truth,  an 
apj>cal  to  the  affections  would  be  absurdly  out  of  place. 
But  the  Gospel  is  primarily  and  fundamentally  an 
appeal  to  the  affections.     And  it  is  naturally  felt  that 


348  That  our  Study  of  God's  Truth  \vxri 

for  a  man  to  make  such  an  appeal  Avithout  warmth  and 
fervour  in  his  own  spirit,  to  make  it  as  a  by-stanclci 
who  looks  on  from  without,  but  is  not  himself  in- 
terested, or  even  to  make  it  in  over-studied  phraseology, 
picking  and  choosing  the  words  which  are  used,  is  to 
adopt  a  style  unsuitable  to  the  subject-matter.  Men 
know  that  the  Gospel  is  designed  to  meet  their  sympa- 
thies ;  and  if  it  should  be  presented  to  them  in  such  a 
manner  as  not  to  do  this,  they  feel  that  it  is  wronged 
and  misrepresented. 

(2)  Owing  to  our  not  perceiving,  or  not  remember- 
ing, this  truth,  that  edification  is  through  the  heart, 
religious  exercises  are  sometimes  taken  to  be  edify- 
ing which  are  not  so.  Shall  I  say  that  much  of  our 
ordinary  reading  of  Holy  Scripture  comes  under  this 
head  ?  that  it  often  resolves  itself  into  a  mere  mental 
exercitation,  and  that  not  of  a  very  high  order — an 
exercitation  in  which  the  only  faculties  evoked  are, 
Attention,  Memory,  and  Comparison  %  We  lodge  the 
points  of  the  Chapter  in  our  minds, — we  call  back  one 
or  two  texts  which  convey  similar  doctrines,  or  perhaps 
merely  echo  back  the  same  phraseology,— we  ask  our- 
selves how  this  or  that  difficulty  is  to  be  explained, 
and  possibly  invent  some  explanation  of  it ;  and  there 
we  make  an  end,  with  a  feeling,  perhaps,  of  satisfaction 
that  we  have  not  done  amiss.  This  method  of  reading 
may  be  repeated  until  we  become  adepts  as  textuaries, 
and  have  the  very  words  of  Holy  Writ  glibly  on  our 
tongue.  But  oh  !  what  a  misuse  of  terms  is  there  in 
the  phraseology  so  often  applied  to  things  got  by  rote, 
of  which  we  say  that  they  are  "  learned  hy  heart !  " 
So  far  from  being  learned  by  heart,  such  things  are 
often  not  even  learned  by  mind,  for  sometimes  they  are 
most  deficiently  understood  ;  and  the  very  utmost  that 
can  be  said  in  favour  of  such  learning  is  that  it  lodges 


IV.]  must  be  with  the  Hearts  340 

truth  in  tho  memory,  which  may  expand  and  serve  a 
pood  purpose  at  some  future  time.  Has  our  study  of 
Seripturo  given  any  bias  to  tho  "will  in  the  path  of 
holiness?  lias  it  at  all  stimulated  tho  aflfections  to 
tlio  Love  of  God,  or  of  our  neighbour  ?  Has  it  nerved 
us  against  temptation  ?  supported  us  under  trial  1 
opened  to  us  a  door  of  hope,  when  we  were  fainting  ? 
has  it  prompted  a  prayer?  or  stirred  in  us  a  holy 
ambition  ?  By  these  and  tho  like  questions  must  its 
influence  upon  the  heart  be  tested  ;  and  unless  it  has 
had  some  influenec  upon  tho  heart,  there  has  been  no 
edification  in  it. 

Let  the  devout  man  be  upon  his  guard  against  an 
interest  in  Holy  Scripture  of  a  false  kind.  At  first 
sight  it  might  seem  as  if  any  and  every  interest  in  that 
Holy  Book  must  be  simply  good,  and  deserving  of 
encouragement.  Bnt  indeed  this  is  not  so.  And  it  is 
very  necessary  to  notice  this  at  a  period  when  great 
intellectual  activity  is  being  attracted  towards  the 
Hiblo.  We  cannot  wonder  at  tho  interest  which  at- 
taches to  the  Sacred  Volume  even  in  a  literary  point 
<»f  view.  The  earlier  part  of  it  is  the  oldest  literature 
in  the  world ;  and,  speaking  of  the  Bible  as  a  composi- 
tion, there  is  nothing  which  can  rival  it  in  simplicity, 
in  grace,  in  force,  in  poetry.  The  very  difficulties 
which  it  presents  are  beyond  measure  interesting  to  an 
intelligent  mind.  But  even  in  the  critical  study  of  tho 
iJible,  which  some  arc  called  and  bound  to  pursue,  it 
should  bo  remembered  that  the  great  purport  of  the 
Volume  Is  moral  and  spiritual, — that  it  is  given  "for 
(l<x?trine,  for  reproof,  for  correction,  for  instruction  in 
righteousness."  If  it  be  read  without  any  reference  to 
this  its  main  object,  it  must  certainly  be  misconstrued. 
But  if   even  the  sacred  critic  must  not  overlook  tho 


350  That  OUT  IStudy  of  God's  Truth,  dc.       [pari 

moral  design  of  the  Volume,  how  constantly  should  it 
be  kept  in  mind  by  him  who  reads  for  education  only  ! 
Let  such  an  one  hold  the  mere  understanding  in  check, 
and  learn  to  restrain  with  a  very  sharp  curb  his  curi- 
osity. Curiosity  is  the  interest  of  the  mind ;  and  what 
is  needed  for  edification  is  the  interest  of  the  heart.  It 
will  be  wasting  an  hour  allotted  to  devotional  reading  to 
spend  it  on  the  critical  investigation  of  a  difficult  pas 
sage.  The  difficult  passages  are  not  the  most  instruc 
tive ;  and  many  of  them  we  believe  to  bo  altogethei 
inexplicable  by  human  research, — to  have  been  left 
there  purposely,  with  the  view  of  proving  our  humility 
and  faith,  and  to  prevent  the  haughty  understanding  of 
man  from  riding  proudly  and  smoothly  over  the  Word 
of  the  Lord. 

The .  plain  things  of  the  Word,  which  "  thou  hast 
known  from  a  child," — which  thou  hast  received  from 
thy  grandmother  Lois,  and  thy  mother  Eunice, — are 
the  really  instructive  things.  The  Creed,  the  Lord's 
Prayer,  the  Ten  Commandments,  and  such  like  rudi- 
ments of  Faith  ; — all  saving  truths  are  wrapped  up  in 
these ; — labour,  and  pray,  and  strive  to  have  thy  heart 
affected  with  them. 

(3)  Finally  ;  let  our  studies  turn  more  and  more  on 
that  which  is  the  core  and  centre  of  the  Bible.  The 
Bible  is  a  revelation  of  God ;  and  the  core  and  centre 
of  God's  Revelation  is  Christ  crucified.  Many  other 
subjects  are  treated  in  the  Bible  besides  this ;  but  this 
is  really  the  pith  and  marrow  of  all ;  this  wraps  up  in 
itself  the  whole  compass  of  edification.  In  the  Book 
of  the  Revelation  we  read  of  "  the  Tree  of  Life,  whicli 
bare  twelve  manner  of  fruits,  and  the  very  leaves  of 
which  were  for  the  healing  of  the  nations."  It  is  the 
Passion-Tree,"  or   Cross    of  the    Lord   Jesus,    which, 


1  \ .  ]  On  Living  by  liu le,  851 

lilted  by  faith  in  the  hearts  of  Ilis  folUAvcrs,  brings 

i  til  there  all  the  fruits  of  the  Spirit,  and  even  the 

ivcs  of  which, — every  slight  circumstance  of  it,  which 

parcntly  might  bo  detached  without  injury   to  the 

cm, — are  medicinal   to   the  soul.      Study  then  the 

l*;ission  of  Christ  in  all  its  details — the  apprehension, 

the  binding,  the  buflcting,  the  spitting,  the  scourging, 

tlic  mockery,  the  gall,  the  nails,  the  crown  of  thorns, 

the  burning  thirst,  the  exceeding  great  and  bitter  cry, 

the  Precious  De^th  which  crowns  the  whole.     Study  it 

N\ith  fervent  prayer  and  longing  desire  rather  than 

'  ying  curiosity.      Study  it  side  by  side  with  thy  sins, 

hich  made  such  a  sacrifice  necessary.     So,  under  the 

influence  of  the  Spirit  of  grace  and  supplications,  shalt 

''i')U  mourn  for  Him  whom  thou  hast  pierced;  and  this 

iderncss  of  spirit  thou  shalt  find  to  be  the  principle 

t  growth  in  Grace, — the  greatest  of  all  motive  powers 

n  the  spiritual  life. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

ON  LIVINO  BY  EULE. 


"  Upon  thejirst  day  of  the  teeth  Id  every  one  of  you  lay  by  him  in 
store  at  God  hath  proeperedhim^  that  there  \e  no  gaiheringt  when 
I  comey — 1  Cor.  xri.  2. 

1  HERE  is  a  discrepancy  between  this  passage  and  the 
general  tone  of  New  Testament  precept,  which  cannot 
fail  to  arrest  a  thoughtful  reader ;  and  we  shall  en- 
deavour to  turn  to  some  account  the  inquiry,  to  which . 
this  discrepancy  might  give  rise  in  his  mind. 

St.  Paul,  the  most  disenthralled  of  all  the  Apostles 


352  On  Living  by  Bide.  [pARa 

from  the  bondage  of  Judaism,  here  gives  a  rule  to  his 
Corinthian  converts  on  the  subject  of  almsgiving.  The 
rule  was  that  on  every  first  day  of  the  week  (or  Sun- 
day) each  member  of  the  Church  should  lay  by  a  part 
of  his  substance,  varying  with  the  amount  of  his  earnings 
during  the  past  week,  for  the  relief  of  the  poor  Chris- 
tians at  Jerusalem.  The  wisdom  of  such  a  rule  of 
almsgiving  is  obvious.  A  considerable  sum  would  thus 
be  gradually  accumulated,  which  though  it  might  not 
appear  formidable  in  its  separate  instalments,  a  man 
might  hesitate  to  give  in  one  lump.  And  then,  again, 
such  a  rule  ensured  to  the  givers  a  gradual  discipline  in 
Christian  benevolence,  which  would  be  far  more  bene- 
ficial to  them,  and  a  far  greater  test  of  character,  than 
one  great  effort  of  it.  A  great  effort  may  be  made  in  a 
moment  of  excitement ;  but  continual  little  efforts  can 
only  be  made  on  principle.  Lastly,  by  adopting  this 
plan,  the  collection  would  be  over  and  done  before  the 
Apostle  visited  them,  and  their  minds  would  be  free  of 
the  care  and  responsibility  of  it,  and  ready  to  receive 
the  spiritual  benefits  of  his  counsel  and  ministry. 

There  can  be  no  question,  then,  of  the  policy  of  such 
a  rule.  Still,  a  rule  it  is,  and  it  has  all  the  properties 
of  a  rule.  It  defines  the  exact  method,  and  the  exact 
period  of  the  duty  ;  the  sum  is  to  be  .proportionate  to 
the  weekly  earnings ;  it  is  to  be  laid  by  every  Sunday. 
And  it  has  all  the  narrowness  inherent  in  the  nature 
of  rules;  that  is,  it  is  not  adapted  to  the  circum- 
stances of  all  men.  In  the  case  of  incomes  not  ac- 
cruing weekly,  but  yearly,  or  half-yearly,  the  rule 
would  require  to  be  recast.  The  deposit  would  then 
have  to  be  made,  not  on  the  first  day  of  the  week,  but 
whenever  the  income  accrued.  And  though  the  Apos- 
tolic authority  made  this  precise  method  of  almsgiving 


lY.]  On  Living  by  Rule,  863 

binding  on  the  Corinthian  Church,  there  is  probably  no 
Christian  of  modern  tinnes  who  thinks  himself  bound  to 
the  literal  obscrvaiico  of  the  rule  in  question,  however 
much  we  may  be  bound,  as  of  course  we  all  are,  to  tlie 
spirit  and  principle  of  it. 

But,  as  I  have  said,  the  ptissage  is  exceptional ;  it  is 
not  in  accordance  with  the  general  tone  of  the  precepts 
of  the  New  Testament.  They  do  not  generally  enter 
so  much  into  particulars.  They  arc  not  commonly  rules 
at  all ;  but  great  principles  of  duty  ;  and  unless  they 
are  apprehended  as  being  such,  they  will  certainly  bo 
misconstrued. 

It  is  even  surprising,  until  we  come  to  consider  it, 
when  all  the  difliculty  vanishes,  what  a  deartli  of  rules 
there  is  in  the  New  Testament.  Who  would  not  have 
thought,  for  example,  that  Godwould  have  prescribed  to 
us  a  certain  number  of  times  for  prayer  daily  %  How 
natural  that  it  should  have  been  said,  "  Pray  when  you 
rise  in  the  morning,  and  when  you  lie  down  at  night ; " 
and  again,  "  Attend  Public  Worship  on  the  first  day  of 
the  week  or  Lord's  Day."  Whereas  instead  of  any  such 
rules,  we  have  simply  the  principles  laid  down  for  our 
guidance,  "  Pray  without  ceasing."  "  Not/orsaking  the 
assembling  of  yourselves  together."  "  Where  two  or 
three  are  gathered  U^gether  in  my  Name,  there  am  I  in 
the  midst  of  them." 

The  fact  is,  that  any  prescription  of  stated  times  for 
prayer  would  not  have  elisticity  enough  for  a  New 
Testament  precept, — it  would  have  too  much  of  the 
letter,  too  little  of  the  spirit,  to  be  in  harmony  with  tho 
general  tenour  of  the  Volume.  The  subject  may  be  re- 
garded in  this  light.  No  law  of  Christ  may  under  any 
circumstances  be  violated.  His  laws,  therefore,  can 
tevcr  be  of  such  a  nature,  as  that  men  shall  be  unable, 


854  On  Living  hy  Rule.  [part 

under  certain  circumstances,  to  keep  them.  Had  it 
been  said  in  the  New  Testament,  "  Attend  Public 
Worship  every  Sunday,"  the  primitive  Christians,  while 
under  the  stress  of  persecution,  might  have  often  found 
it  impossible  to  fulfil  the  precept.  And  modern  Chris- 
tians, engaged  in  tending  sick  persons  who  cannot 
be  left  with  safety,  must,  in  the  case  supposed,  have 
broken  the  command  of  Christ.  Now  Christ's  com- 
mands are  no  trifles,  which  may  be  lightly  dispensed 
with ;  the  very  least  of  them  must  be  magnified  and 
made  honourable  by  the  punctual  obedience  of  each 
disciple.  There  these  commands  steer  clear  of 
all  circumstances,  because  circumstances  are  infinitely 
variable ;  or,  to  state  the  same  thing  in  another  shape, 
they  are  capable  of  adaptation  to  all  circumstances, 
because  they  prescribe  the  spirit,  and  not  the  letter, — 
the  principle,  and  not  the  rule.  "  Not  forsaking  the 
assembling  of  yourselves  together."  Should  you  be 
really  and  lawfully  hindered  by  works  of  necessity  and 
love  from  attending  public  worship  on  the  Lord's  Day, 
you  break  no  law  whatever  by  absenting  yourselves 
from  it ;  nay,  because  God  sends  the  hindrance  in  the 
order  of  His  Providence,  you  are  doing  His  Will  in 
absenting  yourself,  and  shall  none  the  less  realize  His 
Presence,  and  receive  His  Blessing,  in  the  sanctuary  of 
your  heart.  Whereas,  on  the  other  hand,  when  there  is 
no  such  hindrance,  and  when  opportunities  offer,  you  do 
forsake  the  assembling  of  yourself  together  with  your 
brethren,  if  you  do  not  avail  yourself  of  them.  The 
precept  is  free  enough  to  give  dispensation  in  circum- 
stances of  necessity,  while  at  the  same  time  it  is  strict 
enough  to  secure  obedience,  where  there  are  no  such 
sircumstances. 

Notwithstandincr  what  has  been  said  of  the  absence) 


.  I  On  Living  btf  Rule,  356 

in  Scripture  of  any  specific  prescription  of  stated 
riods  of  private  and  Public  Worship,  there  are  very 
loNv  Christians,  it  may  be  presumed,  who  do  not  rcf^ard 
morning  and  evening  private  prayer,  and  Public  Wor- 
ship on  Sundays,  as  a  sort  of  law  of,c<^nsciencc,  to  the 
observance  of  which  they  are  in  all  ordinary  cases 
bound.  It  may  bo  said  to  bo  a  rule  framed  out  of 
Scriptural  principles  by  the  spiritual  instincts  and  com- 
mon agreement  of  Christians,  that  men  shall  pray  on 
rising  and  retiring  to  rest ;  and  that,  as  often  as  the 
first  day  of  the  week  comes  round,  they  shall  assemble 
together  with  their  fellow-Christians  for  united  acts  of 
prayer  and  praise.  And  these  rules  have  been  im- 
mensely serviceable ; — have  secured  a  lar<ie  amount  of 
il  obedience  to  the  Divine  Precepts,  which,  according 
to  the  c«)nstitution  of  the  human  mind,  could  not  have 
been  secured  in  any  other  way.  The  value  and  impor- 
tince  of  rules,  however,  is  not  perceived  until  we 
thoroughly  understand  the  relation  in  which  Holy  Scrip- 
ture stands  to  the  spiritual  instinct  of  Christians,  and 
the  respective  provinces  of  the  two.  To  this  point  wo 
will  now  give  our  attention. 

The  field  of  Nature,  then,  presents  a  remarkable 
L'mblanoe  to  the  field  of  Scripture;  there  are  many 
ints  of  comparison  between  them.     One  striking  re- 
semblance is  this,  that  Nature  furnishes  materials  for 
all  the  arts  of  life,  even  as  Scripture  furnishes  principles 
for  all  rules  of  holy  living.     There  is  stone  in  thequar- 
s  of  Nature;  there  is  clay  in  her  soils;  there  is  tim- 
r  in  her  forests,  and  coal  in  her  mines ;  there  is  fire 
in  her  flints,  and  the  power  of  steam  in  her  waters ; 
there  is  food  in  her  grains,  clothing  in  her  flocks,  and 
verage  in  her  vines.    The  various  arts  of  life  de* 
\  olope  these  re^urces  of  Nature  for  the  comfort  and 


356  On  Living  by  Rule,  [pabi 

well-being  of  man.  And  these  arts  are  of  the  greatest 
importance  to  that  comfort.  Without  architecture  we 
must  sleep  under  the  canopy  of  the  sky,  and  cross  the 
mountain  stream  by  springing  across  from  stone  to 
stone ;  without  the  weaver's  art  we  should  be  none  the 
better  for  the  sheep's  fleece ;  and  without  the  industry 
and  ingenuity  of  man  in  other  forms,  corn  could  not 
be  converted  into  bread,  nor  the  juice  of  the  grape  into 
wine. 

Now  just  as  Nature  furnishes  all  the  materials  of 
life,  which  art  developes  and  makes  up,  (if  I  may  so 
say,)  for  use,  so  Holy  Scripture  furnishes  the  materials 
for  all  rules  of  holy  living,  which  rules  the  spiritual  in- 
stinct and  experience  of  the  children  of  God  extracts  and 
draws  up  in  form.  No  rule  can  be  of  the  least  service, 
whose  material,  that  is,  whose  fundamental  principle,  is 
not  found  in  Scripture.  Every  rule  must  be  positively 
vicious  and  mischievous,  whose  fundamental  principle 
Scripture  contradicts.  Thus,  if  any  one  should  recom- 
mend, as  a  rule  of  holy  living,  the  dwelling  entirely 
apart  from  human  society,  on  the  ground  that  such 
society  is  often  a  snare,  we  should  take  that  man  back 
to  Holy  Scripture  and  say,  "  This  is  a  mischievous  and 
false  rule  of  yours  ;  for  it  is  the  will  of  our  Lord  that 
His  disciples  should  be  the  antiseptic  salt  of  society, 
which  they  cannot  be,  unless  they  mix  with  it.  *  I  pray 
not,'  said  He,  *  that  thou  should  est  take  them  out  of 
the  world,  but  that  thou  shouldest  keep  them  from  the 
evil.' "  The  rule,  therefore,  which  shuts  men  up  in 
the  cloister  and  the  hermitage,  is  as  sure  to  come  to 
a  disastrous  end,  as  is  the  house  which  has  been  con- 
structed in  entire  ignorance  of  the  first  principles  of 
mechanics  ;  and  whose  roof  falls  in  accordingly.  You 
cim  no  more  construct  a  wholesome  ruie  in  defiance  of  a 


i\]  On  Living  by  Rule, 

liNV  of  Scripture,  than  you  can  construct  a  sound  build 

_:  in  defiance  of  a  law  of  Nature. 
From  tliis  very  simple  analo«iy,  linn,  wo  learn  the 

tat  importance,  as  well  as  the  subordinate  position,  of 
rules.  It  was  not  the  scope  of  the  Christian  Scriptures 
to  do  any  tiling  beyond  furnishing  tlie  principles  of  duty, 
just  as  it  was  not  the  scope  of  the  Creator  in  Nature  to 
do  any  thing  beyond  furnishing  materials  for  the  supply 
of  man's  various  wants.  Yet  we  cannot  gather  from 
hence  that  rukts  are  not  absolutely  necessary  (to  some 
extent  at  least)  for  a  holy  life.  Man's  wants  were  surely 
meant  to  be  regularly  and  comfortably  supplied,  though 
Nature  furnishes  '  only  the  materials  for  supplying 
them.  Tlie  mind  of  man  was  endowed  with  art,  in 
order  that  he  might  invent,  contrive,  plan,  and  execute 
the  different  products  of  civilization, — bread,  raiment, 
dwellings,  bridges,  and  aqueducts.  And  one  of  the. 
great  ends  for  which  the  Church  at  large,  and  her  indi- 
vidual members  and  ministers,  have  been  endowed  with 
the  Holy  Ghost,  is  to  guide  them  in  framing  from  the 
principles  of  the  Inspired  Word  rules  of  conduct,  which 
may  serve  as  a  material  assistance  in  the  attainment 
of  that  holiness,  without  which  no  man  shall  see  the 
Lord. 

Accordingly,  such  rules  have  been,  to  a  certain  extent, 
framed,  as  we  have  seen,  by  the  public  opinion  and 
general  practice  of  the  Church,  which  may  be  said  to 
prescribe,  at  all  events,  private  prayer  morning  and 
evening,  and  Public  Worship  on  Sundays ;  and  which  is 
adopting,  if  it  has  not  yet  universally  adopted,  family 
prayer  either  once  or  twice  in  each  day.  Further  rules 
are  given  in  books  of  devotion, — where  you  will  find 
forms  of  self-examination  and  preparation  for  the  Holy 
Communion,  and  other  forms  for  an  annual  examination 


358  On  Living  hj  liule.  [pAin 

and  renewal  of  our  Christian  vows.  Other  suggestions 
to  the  same  efTect  are  sometimes  made  from  the  pulpit, 
though  (as  we  have  before  had  occasion  to  remark) 
more  rarely  than  they  ought  to  be.  But  we  are  now 
speaking  more  particularly  of  the  individual  member  of 
Christ,  and  of  the  part  he  should  take  in  framing,  or 
adopting,  such  rules,  and  embodying  them  in  his  daily 
practice.  And  on  this  point  we  desire  to  speak  with  all 
the  earnestness  and  emphasis,  which  the  importance  of 
the  subject  demands. 

Let  it  be  considered,  then,  how  grave  is  the  re- 
sponsibility with  which  each  of  us  is  charged,  of  keep- 
ing our  own  souls,  and  saving  them  alive.  Let  it  bo 
considered  how  the  issue  of  our  happiness  or  misery 
through  all  eternity  is  suspended,  in  the  marvellous 
arrangements  of  Divine  Providence,  on  the  conduct  of 
threescore  years  and  ten, — on  the  shape  which  our 
characters  take  in  that  short  span  of  time.  Let  it  be 
considered  again  that,  putting  Christ  and  His  cove- 
nanted Grace  out  of  the  question,  we  are  utterly 
unequal  to  the  bearing  so  great  a  burden  under  so  sore 
an  opposition,  and  must  in  an  instant  be  crushed  by  it, 
if  we  undertook  it  in  our  own  strength.  Be  it  remem- 
bered, too,  that  this  burden  cannot  possibly  be  shifted 
to  other  shoulders,  but  must  be  borne  by  ourselves 
alone.  And  then,  from  what  we  know  of  success,  and 
the  means  of  success  in  worldly  undertakings,  let  us 
consider  whether  we  are  likely  to  succeed  in  adminis- 
tering this  all-important  affair,  and  to  bring  the  conduct 
of  it  to  a  happy  issue,  without  some  definite  plan  and 
method  of  proceeding,  wisely  laid  and  faithfully  exe- 
cuted. To  some,  indeed,  it  may  seem  as  if  the  placing 
ourselves  under  any  rules  were  for  a  Christian  a  sort  of 
return  to  the  bondage  of  the  law,  and  an  interferencp 


IV.]  On  Living  by  RuU,  359 

with  the  liberty  of  the  now  and  spiritual  dispensation. 
But  bo  it  observed,  that  the  adoption  of  rules  is  recom- 
mended to  Ciiristians  not  as  a  bondage  but  as  a  help  to 
tlic  will,  and  as  a  disciplino  for  bracing  and  hardening 
it.  \Vhat  Christian  man  of  these  degenerate  days  can 
say  with  truth  that  he  has  risen  above  the  necessity  of 
all  such  rules  1  What  Christian  man  could  safely  afford 
to  dispense  with  the  obligation  of  private  prayer  morn- 
ing and  evening,  and  of  stated  Public  Worship,  although 
these  obligations  are  bound  upon  him,  not  by  the  explicit 
letter  of  Holy  Scripture,  but  by  the  godly  customs  and 
traditional  usages  of  the  Christian  Church?  The  will 
f  the  best  of  us  is  lamentably  weak  and  vacillating,  and 
oeds  all  the  support  and  strength  which  can  be  given 
to  it.  This  support  and  strength  can  only  come  from 
the  Spirit  of  Christ ;  but  then  this  Spirit  visits  us  in 
the  diligent  use  of  the  means.  Now  by  general  pre- 
cepts, exacting  a  perfect  and  universal  obedience,  the 
will  is  not  strengthened.  The  indefmiteness  of  such 
precepts  as  to  time  and  method  renders  them  easy  of 
evasion,  and,  when  the  trial  comes,  the  weak  will  takes 
tlio  opening  which  is  left  to  it  by  the  breadth  and  spiri- 
tuality of  the  law.  But  when  the  precept  takes  the 
shape  of  a  rule,  and  condescends  to  particulars  as  to 
time,  place,  and  method,  the  will,  obeying  it  punctually, 
finds  its  power  strengthened  by  such  obedience;  and 
iibmission  becomes  easier  for  the  future,  until  at  length 
it  is  yielded  habitually. 

How,  then,  since  rules,  if  discreetly  used,  arc  sc 
sorviceablo,  shall  we  proceed  in  the  formation  or  adoption 
of  them  1     Now,  just  as  a  little  experience  of  our  own  • 
physical  constitution  puts  us  into  possession  of  thie 
amount  and  kind  of  food,  the  amount  and  kind  of  led. 
und  exercise  which  suits  us  best,  so  a  slight  cxperici  8t 


360  On  Living  by  Rule.  [pabt 

of  the  spiritual  life,  if  it  be  but  an  earnest  one,  soon 
teaches  us  what  restrictions  it  is  important  to  lay  upon 
ourselves,  what  should  be  our  leading  resolves,  and 
what  form  and  length  of  devotion  is  suitable  and  expe- 
dient for  us.  Minds  are  almost  infinitely  various  ;  and 
according  to  the  character  of  our  own  mind  must  be 
the  discipline  we  allot  to  it.  Some  persons  can  pro- 
fitably go  through  much  longer  devotions  than  others  ; 
because  some  are  naturally  more  recollected,  and  some 
more  dissipated  by  external  things.  Persons  in  rude 
health  and  high  spirits  will  need  external  mortification 
in  things  innocent,  to  a  degree  which  might'be  extreme- 
ly prejudicial  to  those  in  whom  the  tone  of  animal 
life  is  always  feeble.  Persons  called  to  much  active 
business  must  study  how  they  may  make  their  devo- 
tions very  short,  very  frequent,  and  very  fervent ;  those 
who  have  leisure  will  be  able  to  consecrate  a  larger 
portion  of  it  to  direct  acts  of  worship,  and  will  find 
their  account  in  doing  so.  Then,  as  to  the  desirable- 
ness of  frequent  Communion,  this  will  vary  much 
with  the  temperament  and  circumstances  of  each 
individual,  as  well  as  with  his  progress  in  the  spiritual 
life,  and  the  quiet  opportunities  which  he  can  manage 
to  secure  beforehand.  Let  each  man  do  in  this  matter 
as  in  his  conscience  he  thinks  to  be  best  for  himself, 
and,  according  to  the  Apostolic  rule  of  love,  neither 
judge  his  brother  as  a  formalist,  because  he  partakes 
often  of  that  most  blessed  Sacrament,  nor  despise  him 
as  irreligious,  because  he  finds  a  rarer  celebration  more 
profitable  at  present.  Again,  as  to  the  almsgiving,  some 
rule  surely  nmst  be  felt  by'  all  of  us  to  be  urgently 
needed  ;  and  here,  especially,  the  form  and  shape  which 
o,e  duty  will  take  will  be  almost  infinitely  various, 
ret  each  man  only  make  sure  of  securing  by  his  practice 


rv.]  On  Living  by  Jiuls.  361 

tho  principle,  which  is  that  God  has  a  claim  upon  a 
cortaiu  fair  proportion  of  our  annual  income,  which 
portion  is  literally  not  ours  but  His  ;  and  that  to  with- 
hold from  Him  such  a  proportion,  independently  of 
tho  dishonour  done  Him  thereby,  is  as  likely  to  bo 
prt^judicial  to  our  spiritual  interests  as  the  withholding 
from  Him  a  portion  of  our  time  for  the  exercises  of 
devotion.  Let  this  principle  be  deeply  settled  in  the 
mind ;  and  then  the  details  adjusted  honestly  in  ac- 
cordance with  it.  Though  the  subject  is  one  which 
defies,  more  than  any  other,  all  attempts  at  a  general 
rule,  the  method  prescribed  by  tho  Apostle  to  the 
Corinthians  may  perhaps  be  found  serviceable,  and  in 
many  cases  would  be  quite  practiciible,  that  of  laying 
by  in  reserve  a  cert-iin  portion  of  money,  as  our  income 
accrues.  The  doing  this  regularly  and  punctually 
might  very  likely  free  the  mind  from  those  perplexing 
consideiations,  as  to  whether  we  are  doing  our  duty  in 
this  matter  of  almsgiving,  which  are  apt  at  times  to 
harass  all  earnest  and  thoughtful  Christians.  And  to 
be  rid  of  perplexities  is  a  great  point  gained  towards 
holy  living.  It  is  not  easy  to  grow  in  grace,  while  the 
mind  is  in  a  tangle,  and  the  will  in  a  state  of  hesitation 
and  unsettlernent. 

Finally,  (and  passing  over  without  notice  many 
points  which  might  be  touched,  but  which  the  mind  of 
the  reader  must  supply,)  specific  resolutions  are  of  the 
<rreatest  service  in  the  Spiritual  Life.  They  must  be 
framed  upon  the  knowledge  of  our  weak  points  and  be- 
setting sins  ;  and  it  is  well  every  morning  to  draw  up 
one  or  more  of  them,  adcr  a  foresight  of  the  temp- 
tations to  which  we  are  liable  to  be  exposed,  and  the 
eircumstanoes  by  which  we  are  likely  to  be  surrounded, 
f^it  it  be  remembered  generally  that  nothing  is  8c 
16 


362  On  Living  hy  Hule,  [paet 

likely  to  destroy  that  recollectedness  of  mind,  which  is 
the  very  atmosphere  of  the  Spiritual  Life,  as  unexpected 
incidents  for  which  we  are  in  no  wise  prepared,  and 
w^hich  often  stir  in  us  sudden  impulses  of  almost  uncon- 
trollable  feeling.  We  cannot,  of  course,  foresee  all  such 
incidents ;  but  still  there  are  many  of  them,  which,  from 
a  survey  of  the  day,  we  may  think  likely  to  arise.  Let 
us  arm  ourselves  for  them,  when  they  do  come,  by  a 
holy  resolution,  which  will  take  its  shape  from  the 
peculiar  nature  of  the  temptation  offered, — a  resolution 
perhaps  to  busy  ourselves  in  some  useful  work,  and  so 
divert  the  mind,  or  to  give  a  soft  answer  which  turns 
away  wrath,  or  to  repeat  secretly  a  verse  of  some 
favourite  hymn,  or  only  to  cast  a  mental  glame  on 
Christ  crucified,  which  indeed  is  the  most  sovereign  re- 
medy against  temptation  known  in  the  spiritual  world. 
h\  any  case  let  our  rules  be  such  as  may  be  easily  and 
cheerfully  observed,  remembering  that  we  are  to  serve 
God  in  the  newness  of  the  spirit,  not  in  the  oldness  of 
the  letter.  Let  the  object  be  to  make  them  a  help,  not 
to  convert  them  into  a  penance.  And  let  their  in- 
feriority and  subserviency  to  the  principle  on  which  they 
are  founded  be  always  kept  in  mind.  Let  them  not  be 
easily  dispensed  with  when  once  made ;  and  yet  let  there 
be  no  foolish  superstitious  scruple  about  dispensing 
with  them  when  real  necessity  arises.  Oh,  who  shall 
teach  the  one-sided  mind  of  man  the  true  middle  path 
between  the  bondage  of  observances  (which  is  the 
bondage  of  Judaism),  and  that  spurious  (so-called)  free- 
dom, which  affects  to  disdain  self-discipline,  and  refuses 
to  acknowledge  itself  under  the  Law  to  Christ !  God 
will  show  us  the  path,  if  we  will  not  lean  to  our  own 
understanding,  but  follow,  with  the  simplicity  and 
docility  of  children,  the  guidance  of  His  hand. 


rv.]  Of  the  Mischief  and  Danger^  <Cr.  363 


CHAPTER  Vlf. 

OP  THE  MISCHIEF  AND  DANGER  OP  EXAOOERATIONS  IN 
liELIGION. 

"  Let  u*  projiheat/  according  to  the  proportion  oj  faith.'''' 

Rov.  xii.  6. 

Lord  Bacon  somewhere  compares  religion  to  the  sun, 
which  has  two  contrary  cnbcts  upon  live  and  dead 
animal  substances.  Live  animal  substances, — the  living 
body  of  man,  for  example, — the  sun  invigorates,  and 
cheers,  and  promotes  the  functions  of  life  in  them. 
Hut  in  dead  animal  substances  the  sun  breeds  worms, 
and  turns  them  to  corruption.  Similarly,  he  says, 
religion  invigorates  a  sound  mind,  and  cheers  a  sound 
heart,  while  in  a  morbid  mind  it  breeds  noisome  super- 
stitions, and  miserable  scruples,  and  grotesque,  and 
e»en  monstrous,  fancies;  the  fault  however  not  being 
in  religion,  but  in  the  diseased  mind,  which  is  subjected 
to  its  influences.  Such  is  the  thought  of  the  great  phi- 
losopher, if  these  are  not  the  very  words  in  which  he 
has  expressed  it. 

We  have  only  to  survey  the  history  of  Christianity, 
to  see  how  eminently  just  this  comparison  is.  The 
Grospel,  as  taught  by  our  Lord  and  His  Apostles,  is 
holy,  pure,  divine,  transparently  clear,  radiant  alilvo 
with  the  glory  of  God  and  the  happiness  of  man — of 
that  there  is  no  doubt ;  yet  what  twists  has  the  mind 
of  man  contrived  to  give  it,  so  that  in  some  forms  of 
Christianity  you  can  hardly  at  all  recognize  the  original 
draught,  as  it  came  from  the  Divine  mind !  What 
follies,  fancies,  superstitions,  licentious  doctrines,  have 
founded  themselves — not  justly  of  course,  but  with   n 


364  Of  the  Mischief  and  Danger  [pakt 

most  perverse  ingenuity — upon  the  Scriptures  of  the 
Old  and  New  Testament ! 

This  has  arisen,  not  from  any  fault  or  shortcoming 
in  the  Scriptures  themselves  (God  forbid !     His  Word 
is,  like  Himself,  perfect),  but  from,  a  certain  morbid 
tendency  in  the  human  mind  to  caricature  truths  pre- 
sented to  it.     I  believe  we  cannot  express   the  ten- 
dency in  question  more  exactly  than  by  calling  it  a 
tendency  to  caricature.     A  caricature  is  the  likeness  of 
a  person,  in  which  the  artist  has  caught  some  of  the 
leading  points  of  the  countenance,  but  has  so  unduly 
exaggerated  them  as  to  make  the  whole  likeness  absurd 
and  grotesque.     There  is  always  a  point  of  resemblance 
in  a  caricature,  or  persons  would  not  know  for  whom  it 
was  meant ;  but  the  point  is  excessively  magnified  and 
thrown  out  of  all  proportion  to  the  other  lineaments,  or 
people  would  take  it  seriously,  and  it  would  cease  to  be 
a  caricature,  and  become  a  portrait.     Now  it  would  be 
very  interesting  to  consider  every  heresy  which  has 
hitherto  arisen,  and  see  how  in  each  case  it  has  been  a 
caricature  of  some  one  point  of  Christian  Truth, — an 
exaggeration,  by  which  the  fair  proportion  of  the  Paith 
(of  which  St.  Paul  speaks  in  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans) 
has  been  distorted,  and  a  single  passage  of  Scripture  or 
a  single  class  of  passages,  brought  into  undue  promi- 
nence.    We  will  take  one  or  more  instances  from  those 
heresies  which   are   better   known.     The   truth   upon 
which  the  Quaker  founds  his  whole  system,  is  that  the 
New  Dispensation  is  spiritual.     No  truth  can  well  be 
more  vital,  more  important,  or  more  apt,  through  the 
subtle  encroachments  of  formalism  (a  sin  which  is  at  all 
times  waylaying  us),  to  be  dropt  out  of  sight.     It  is 
quite  necessary  for  all  of  us  to  turn  round  every  now 
and  then,  and  ask  ourselves  whether  we  are  properly 


rv.]  of  Ejfdft^frationf  in  Rclimpj.  ;i0.3 

-.wsAv  t«»    it.     Tlmt  tho    law,  nnJer  \hifh  Thrisrilufi  ,<^  r -p^  . 
livo,  is  the  law,  not  of  n  written  table,  nor-  < n 

b«M>k,  but "  the  law  of  the  Spirit,  of  life  in  (  u.  .-m  -l .  .'>iis," 
writttMi  on  the  fleshy  tnblo  of  the  heart ;  that  in  place 
«'!'  ..  r  f( )rbirldin:?  «r//o«5,  our  Legis- 

late: :  ,     io  of  Hoatitudes  on  certain  states 

of  heart  and  feeling ;  that  in  the  Goepel  momlitj  what 
wo  do  goes  for  comparatively  little,  and  what  we  arc — 
our  motives  and  intentions — for  every  thing ;  that  each 
movement  of  the  heart  is  judged  by  Him  who  reads 
the  heart ;  that  God  is  a  Spirit,  and  therefore  to  be 
worshipped  in  spirit  and  in  truth,  and  that,  accordingly 
to  approach  him  with  outward  ceremonial,  exclusive  of 
the  heart,  is  as  much  an  impossibility  in  the  nature  of 
things,  as  to  endow  matter  with  the  properties  of  mind, 
and  make  a  stone  work  a  mathematical  problem  ;  all 
this  is  not  only  true,  but  precious  truth,  of  which  we 
require  to  be  reminded  continually  ;  and  the  Quakers 
would  have  deserved  the  -warmest  thanks  of  Christen- 
dom, if  they  had  done  nothing  more  than  brought 
it  forward  prominently,  and  illustrated  it  strikingly. 
But,  unhappily,  having  seized  this  one  feature  of  the 
Truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  they  caricatured  it.  They  pro 
cecded  on  the  theory  of  a  spiritual  dispensation  to  such 
in  absurd  extent,  as  to  rob  the  Church  of  he^  Sacra- 
ments, the  repositories  and  vehicles  of  that  very  inward 
spiritual  Grace,  of  which  the  Quakers  themselves  were 
(he  stoutest  maintainers.  If  religion  is  spiritual,  they 
argued,  we  must  have  nothing  material  about  it ;  so, 
notwithstanding  the  Lord's  words,  "  Go  ye,  baptizing 
all  nations,^  and  "  Do  this  in  remembrance  of  Me,"  we 
will  banish  from  our  meetings  the  water,  the  bread,  and 
the  wine,  and  be  baptized  and  communicate  in  the  spirit 
only.    It  has  always  been  the  opinion  of  pious  and 


366  Of  the  Mischief  and  Danger  [PiMiT 

judicious  divines  in  the  Church,  that  because,  even  in 
the  Sacraments,  the  inward  spiritual  grace  is  the  chief 
matter,  Christians  shut  out  from  communicating  sacra- 
mentally  (by  ilhiess  or  other  necessity)  may  do  so 
spiritually  in  their  closets  by "  uniting  their  prayers 
and  intercessions  with  that  which  is  passing  in  the 
Church ;  but  the  actual  renunciation  of  the  outward 
visible  sign,  as  the  Quakers  have  renounced  it,  w^ould 
never  have  entered  into  the  liead  of  any  one,  unless  his 
mind  had  been  possessed  with  some  one  idea,  and  he 
had  resolved  to  make  that  idea  stand  for  the  whole  of 
Christianity. — We  offer  another  and  more  recent  in- 
stance of  a  very  serious  error,  which  we  fear  is  fast 
assuming  the  proportions  of  a  heresy.  It  is  the  delight- 
ful announcement  of  the  Holy  Scripture,  which  should 
make  every  heart  bound  with  joy, — and  it  may  be  said 
to  be  the  very  most  fundamental  truth  of  our  religion, 
that  "  God  is  Love."  His  Love  He  has  shown  by  a 
Sacrifice  which  must  surely  have  wrung  to  the  utmost 
His  paternal  heart,  if  a  similar  sacrifice  would  have 
proved  to  a  mere  human  parent  the  most  acutely  pain- 
ful of  all  trials, — the  sacrifice  of  His  dear  Son,  Who 
from  all  eternity  had  lain  in  His  bosom.  Certain 
divines  of  our  own  day  have  perceived  this  truth  of 
God's  Love  clearly.  They  cannot  perceive  it  too 
clearly ;  they  cannot  proclaim  it  too  loudly, — not  if 
they  had  a  hundred  tongues,  and  the  lungs  of  a  Stentor. 
Down  with  all  teaching,  which  by  real  logical  inference 
contradicts  this  fundamental  truth  ; — it  must  be  false, 
unscriptural,  mischievous.  That  our  God  is  a  hard 
taskmaster,  requiring  of  us  services,  which  will  not 
ultimately  make  for  our  own  happiness  ;  that  austerities, 
as  austerities,  without  any  spiritual  end,  are  pleasing 
to  Him  and  propitiate  His  wrath  (a  notion  utterly  and 


IV.]  oj'  Bxoff^eratioM  in  Religion,  3G7 

simply  hoAthen) ;  that  only  tho  Second  Person  of  the 
I^Iossod  Trinity  smiles  upon  us  with  a  gracious  \vola»mf, 
and  that  tho  brow  of  tho  First  is  always  contracted 
with  a  gloomy  frown  towards  sinners: — let  these  sen- 
timents by  all  means  bo  demolished  with  axe  and 
hammer,  because  they  contradict  God's  own  testimony 
respecting  Himself.  IJut  to  go  the  length  of  saying 
that  anger  is  inconsistent  with  love,  (an  assertion  which 
tho  analogy  of  parental  affection  surely  enables  us  flatly 
to  contradict,)  or  to  go  the  further  length  of  saying 
that  justice  is  inconsistent  with  compassion,  against  all 
experience  of  human  justice;  (for  over  what  olfcnder 
le<l  out  to  execution,  does  not  the  heart  of  man  relent 
at  the  last  moment,  while  yet  feeling  the  justice  and 
necessity  of  the  proceeding  X)  and  to  acknowledge  no 
relations  with  God  as  a  Judge,  because  He  stands  to 
us  in  the  relation  of  a  father,  this  is  a  monstrous  exag- 
geration, whereby  the  Faith  once  given  to  the  saints  is 
grievously  caricatured,  and  its  fair  proportions  marred. 
God  loves  me  deeply,  purely,  intensely  ;  longs  to  com- 
municate Himself  to  me; — that  is  indisputably  true, 
and  I  may  take  to  myself  all  the  comfort  of  it  without 
a  moment's  hesitation.  But  God  hates  my  sin,  detests 
it^  brought  Christ  to  a  strict  reckoning  for  it,  and  will 
never  consent  to  save  me  from  its  guilt,  without  saving 
me  from  tho  power  of  it  too  : — tliat  is  equally  true,  and 
I  may  take  to  myself  all  the  warning  of  it,  without  a 
moment's  hesitation. 

These  two  instances  ore  enough  to  show  that  very 
serious  errors  and  heresies  spring  from  not  maintaining 
what  St.  Paul  calls  "  tho  proportion  of  the  faith,"-— that 
is,  from  giving  to  any  one  doctrine,  however  tine  and  im- 
portant, so  great  a  prominence  that  it  throws  into  the 
sliade  all  others  which  counterbalance  it. 


368  '  Of  the  Mischief  and  Danger  [part 

And  be  it  remembered  that,  where  there  is  no  formal 
or  actual  heresy,  the  one-sided  tendency  of  the  human 
mind  is  nevertheless  operative  in  religious  persons,  and 
may  lead  to  a  vast  amount  of  unsuspected  mischief  and 
error,  which  shall  corrupt  their  religion,  and  breed  in  it 
man}'-  morbid  and  fanatical  fancies.     In  many  spiritual 
books,  M'hich  in   the  main  are  excellent, — perhaps  I 
might  say  in  every  spiritual  book,  more  or  less,  which 
is  not  the  Bible, — a  strain  is  put  upon  certain  precepts 
of  the  Gospel,  which  not  only  caricatures  them,  and 
perhaps  sets  them  at  issue  with  other  precepts  resting 
on  the  same  authority,  but  would  have  the  effect  of 
cramping    into    an    unnatural  state   the  mind    which 
sliould   strive  after  obedience   to  them.     As  nothing 
illustrates  with  the  same  effect  as  an  example,     will 
give  one ;  and,  the  better  to    exhibit  the  principle,  it 
shall  be  in  an  extreme  form.     St.  Francis  of  Sales  is  a 
writer  of  the  Roman  Communion  ;  but  one  from  whose 
w^ritings  and  life  Christians  of  every  communion  may 
derive  perhaps  as  much  edification  as  can  be  had  from 
any    other    single  uninspired  writer.     There  is   little 
distinctively   Roman   in   his   works ;  and   what   little 
there  is,  seems  to  have  but  little  hold  upon  the  author's 
mind.     While  at  the  same  time  there  is  in  all  that  he 
writes  something  so  gentle,  so  tender,  so  indicative  of 
a  mind  thoroughly  saturated  with  the  Love  of  Christ, 
tliat  we  do  not  envy  the  Christian  who  can  find  his 
writings  otherwise   than  most  attractive.     When  St. 
Francis  was  dying,  he  was  attended  by  a  Bishop  who 
was  one  of  his  attached  disciples,  and  whom  he  had  had 
the  satisfaction  of  consecrating  with  his  own  hands.    As 
the  Bishop  leant  over  him,  while  he  was  in  the  agony 
of    death,    Francis   gasped   out :     "  Bishop,   God   has 
taught  me  a  great  secret,  and  I  will  tell  it  you,  if  you 


IV.]  of  KxaggeratioM  in  Religion,  300 

will  put  your  head  closer."  The  Bishop  did  as  bo  was 
rcquircnl,  anxious  to  know  wliat  Francis  considered  as 
the  crowning  lesson  of  a  lUb  of  holiness.  "He  has 
taught  me,"  said  the  dying  man,  who  was  evidently  in 
acute  sulTering  at  the  momi  i  '  ' '  ask  nothing,  aT\d  to 
refuse  nothing." 

Now  perhaps  the  first  sound  of  such  a  sentiment 
may  be  to  some  ears  attractive.  A  sentimental  pietism 
might  perhaps  whisper,  on  hearing  it,  **  What  beautiful 
resignation  ! "  But  Is  it  beautiful,  according  to  the 
true  canon  of  beauty  in  Religion,  which  is  conformity 
to  the  Word  of  God,  and  the  mind  of  Christ  ?  We 
admit  that  to  refuse  nothing  which  comes  from  our 
Father's  hand,  however  much  our  lower  will,  which 
shuns  pain  and  sufiering,  may  deprecate  it,  is  the  stiite 
of  mind  to  which  every  Christian  will  labour  and  pray 
that  he  may  be  brought.  But  where  has  God  taught 
His  people  to  ask  nothing  ?  Where  has  He  forbidden 
them,  under  suflering,  to  cry  for  relief?  Did  Our  Lord, 
or  did  He  not^  pT*ay,  "  Father,  if  it  be  possible,  let  this 
cup  pass  from  Me  ?"  If  He  did,  God  evidently  had 
not  taught  His  only-begotten  soii  to  "  ask  for  nothing." 
And  His  Son's  Humanity  was  spotless  in  holiness, — 
He  was  clearly  "  void  of  sin,  both  in  His  flesh  and  in 
His  spirit."  Shall  we,  miserable  sinners,  presume  with 
a  frightful  temerity  to  go  further  in  conformity  to 
tiio  will  of  God  than  Jesus  Himself  went?  Forbid  it, 
Lord  I  St.  Francis,  with  all  our  love  for  him,  and  all 
our  obligations  to  him,  shall  not  lure  us  into  such  a 
grievous  departure  from  the  great  Exemplar.  God 
helping  us,  we  will  pour  out  our  hearts  before  Him  in 
every  trouble,  and  make  known  to  Him  our  request  for 
relief,  in  submission  always  to  His  Will ;  and  having 
pv..f;.rr,.,i    r....-  V'^quest,  we  will  leave  it  there  in  our 


370  Of  the  Mischief  and  Banger  [part 

Father's  hands,  and  account  that  we  have  thenceforth 
nothing  more  to  do  with  it.  But  find  a  vent  towards 
God  for  our  burdened  heai;t  we  will,  because  He  Him- 
self has  opened  such  a  vent  when  He  says  :  "  Ye  jDcople, 
pour  out  your  hearts  before  Him." 

Do  you  not  see  now  how  good  St.  Erancis  erred  by 
exaggeration;  how  in  his  dying  sentiment  he  carica- 
tured the  grace  of  resignation  %  Resignation  no  doubt 
is  a  heavenly  and  Christ-like  grace;  but  if  you  will 
push  it  to  any  and  every  length,  regardless  of  other 
precepts  of  God's  Word,  and  even  regardless  of  common 
sense,  (a  very  valuable  aid  in  religion,)  even  resignation 
might  become  absolutely  mischievous.  Thus  in  coun- 
tries where  the  weather  is  sultry,  and  the  people  con- 
stitutionally indolent,  one  might  conceive  a  beggar 
continuing  in  mendicancy,  and  doing  nothing  to  raise 
himself  above  it,  or  to  improve  his  condition,  on  the 
plea  that  such  was  the  Will  of  God,  and  that  men- 
dicancy was  the  state  of  life  to  which  he  had  been 
called.  Resignation  is  the  only  precept  which  such  an 
one  recognizes ;  and  he  has  forgotten  that  in  another 
corner  of  God's.  Word  there  is  a  certain  maxim,  less 
chivalrous  perhaps  than  resignation,  but  equally  deserv- 
ing his  attention, — that  "  if  any  man  would  not  work, 
neither  should  he  eat."  This,  of  course,  is  another  ex- 
treme case.  I  only  adduce  it,,  because  it  illustrates  the 
fault  which  we  are  at  present  exposing  and  censuring. 

Be  it  remembered,  in  pursuing  the  train  of  thought 
which  we  have  thus  opened  up,  that  in  the  lives  of  the 
early  Scriptural  saints,  who,  next  to  Our  Blessed  Lord, 
are  our  great  models,  nothing  is  so  remarkable  as  their 
perfect  naturalness,  and  freedom  from  all  affected  or 
overstrained  spirituality.  The  great  Apostle  of  the 
Gentiles,  whose  name  and  fame  is  in  all  the  churches, 


I  V.J  of  JExnyfjaatioim  iu  Ecli(fioii^  iiVl 

Immeiliately  after  a  miraculous  escape  from  shipwreck, 
bestirs  himself  to  pathcr  a  buiidlo  of  sticks,  and  puts 
them  on  the  fire  (for  St.  Paul  was  not  above  feeliufr 
cold  and  wet)  ;  and  when  writin*;  luider  the  afllatus  of 
the  Holy  Ghost,  ho  bids  Timothy  bring  the  cloak 
which  ho  loft  ot  Troas  with  Carpus,  iii  anticipation  of 
An  approaching  winter,  **  and  the  books,  but  especially 
the  parchments ;"  for  what  stuJious  man — and  every 
minister  of  Christ  must  be  studious,  if  his  ministry  is 
to  be  eflectivo— -can  bear  to  bo  without  his  books  and 
papers  ?  These  particulars  have  seemed  to  some  toc» 
frivolous  for  Inspiration,  but  they  liave  a  real  purpose, 
and  subserve  a  real  end,  if  they  show  that  even 
Lispiration  did  not  destroy  the  perfect  simplicity  and 
naturalness  of  those  who  wore  the  subjects  of  it. 
Among  the  early  disciples  you  would  have  seen  nothing 
overcharged  in  character  or  manner ;  nay,  you  would 
liave  seen  little  foibles,  (not  tliat  these  are  to  be 
imitated,)  of  temper,  of  superstition,  of  prejudice ; — 
you  might  have  heard  sharp  words  passing  between 
great  Apostles,'  and  a  rupture  taking  place  in  conse- 
quence ;  you  might  have  heard  even  St.  Peter  roundly 
and  publicly  reproved  for  clinglpg  to  a  prejudice ;  and 
you  might  have  seen  a  damsel,  recently  engaged  with 
others  in  prayer,  which  received  a  miraculous  answer, 
in  such  a  joyful  trepidation  of  nerves  when  the  answer 
arrived,  that  she  opened  not  the  gate  for  gladness,  but 
ran  in  and  told  "how  Peter  stood  before  the  gate." 
Most  of  us  would  thankfully  acquiesce  in  being  as 
saintly  as  the  primitive  Christians  ;  and  silrely  it  is  a 
lesson  for  us  that  there  is  in  their  sanctity  so  littlo 
over-studied,  so  little  walking  on  stilts,  so  littlo  of  the 
forced  unnatural  attitude,  into  which  modern  books  of 
devotion  sometimes  try  to  cramp  the  mind.     In  ancient 


372  Of  the  MiscJdef  and  Danger,  dc.         [pakt 

piety  there  was  not  a  particle  of  asceticism  or  of 
Puritanism, — which  two  things  I  mention  together, 
because  they  are  the  Roman  and  Protestant  sides  of 
the  same  fault. 

How,  then,  shall  the  devout  man  keep  his  mind  free 
from  exaggerations  both  in  doctrine  and  practice,  and 
hold  in  check  its  natural  one-sidedness  ?     An  impartial 
study  of  the  zohole  of  Scripture  is  the  corrective.     Our 
Church  may  indicate   the  remedy.     The  bulk  of  the 
Old  Testament  is  by  her  read  through  once,  and  the 
bulk  of  the  New  Testament  three  times,  in  each  year. 
Those  who  will  be  at  the  pains  to  accompany  her  in 
the  cycle  of  the  four  daily  lessons,  (a  larger  portion  of 
Scripture  than  is  read  in  any  schismatical  community, 
Romish  or  dissenting,)  will  thus  have  a  fresh  current 
of  Scripture  always  setting  in  through  the  mind,  and 
will    find  that   this   fresh   current   has  a   remarkable 
tendency  to  defecate  the    dregs    of  the    mind,  and  to 
clear  away  those  morbid  humours  which  intercept  its 
vision.      Adopt   either   this   method,    or    some    other 
similar  to  it.     Read  with  real  openness  of  mind,  quite 
willing  to  renounce  any  such  preconceived  views  as  do 
not  square  with  the  great  Canon  of   Truth.      Of  set 
purpose  study,  and  give  their   fair  weight  to,  those 
doctrines,    or    practices,    to  which   your   mind  is  not 
naturally  drawn.     Pray  for  the  Bereans'  nobleness  of 
mind,   in    that   they  brought    even    the   doctrine    of 
Apostles  to  the  test  of  Inspiration,  and  searched  the 
Scriptures  daily,  whether  these  things  were  so.     How 
much  moiTi,  when  men  are  not  Apostles,  but  simply 
possessors  of  the  mind  of  Christ,  must  iheir  doctrine  be 
thus  searched  and  sifted!     Much  irreverent  nonsense 
has  been  talked  of  late  about  a  verifying  faculty,  but, 
(God  be  praised  !)  we  have  pome  more  certain  criterion 


j\.J  Of  the  ffreai  Variety ^d'c,  37JJ 

«>f  Truth  in  a  verifying  Book.  It  is  true  that  there  is 
no  error  whatever,  which  may  not  bo  bolstered  up  by 
nil  appeal  to  some  part  of  the  Holy  Scriptures. 
Atlieism  itself,  it  has  been  well  said,  may  bo  proved 
from  the  Bible,  by  simply  leaving  out  the  words, 
'*  The  fool  hath  said  in  his  heart."  But  when  applied 
impartially,  without  favour  or  prejudice,  and  in  full 
view  of  the  passages  on  the  other  side,  Holy  Scripture 
is  a  thoroughly  safe  and  sound  criterion.  Do  not 
merely  read  it,  but  imbue  your  minds  with  it.  Do  not 
merely  quote  it,  (a  very  easy  and  somewhat  poor  at- 
tainment,) but  frame  your  religious  sentiments  upon 
it,  and  then  you  sliall  bear  a  charmed  life  against  error, 
and  heresy,  and  all  manner  of  morbid  fancies  and 
fanaticisms. 


CHAPTER  \m, 

OF  Tin:  GKI-AT  VARIETY  OP  MEX*8  CHAKACTEES  IN  THE 

cnuEcn  OF  cheist. 

*^  Ai  the  body  is  one^  and  hcUh  many  members^  and  all  the  members 
of  that  one  body^  bein;f  »»-<»'/.  arc  one  body ;  so  also  is  Clwist.^— 
1  CkjR.  xii.  12. 

These  words,  and  the  chapter  from  which  they  are 
t.ikon,  teach  us  that  variety  in  unity  is  the  law  of  the 
1  'liurch  of  Christ  The  spiritual  gifts  with  which  the 
early  believers  were  endowed  were  various ;  some  were 
enabled  to  work  miracles ;  some  to  speak  with  tongues ; 
some  to  heal  the  sick  ;  some  to  prophesy  ;  some  ha4  a 
suponiatural  insight  into  character;  some  interpreted 
tlie   ccstathc   utterances,  to   which   others   gave   vent. 


374     Of  the  great  Variety  of  Mai's  Characters    \pxKl 

"  But  all  these/'  says  the  Apostle,  "  worketh  that  one 
and  the  self-same  Spirit,  dividing  to  every  .man 
severally  as  he  will."  And  it  may  be  added  that  not 
only  did  the  gifts  come  from  the  same  Author ;  but 
worked  together  also  to  the  same  end,  the  service  of 
Christ  and  the  glory  of  God.  This  is  not  explicitly 
stated  by  the  Apostle,  but  is  quite  as  strongly  implied 
in  the  image  which  he  employs,  as  the  former  truth. 
Ill  the  passage  which  stands  at  the  head  of  this 
Chapter,  the  Church  is  compared  to  the  natural  body 
of  man.  Now,  not  only  is  the  life  of  the  body  one 
thing,  in  whichever  of  the  members  it  operates ;  but 
also  the  members  conspire  together  to  onx3  end.  In 
fetching  and  reaching  any  thing,  the  design  is  formed 
by  the  brain  ;  the  object  is  seen  by  the  eye;  the  feet 
•are  made  to  walk  in  that  direction ;  the  hands  subse- 
quently are  'raised  to  grasp  the  object.  Combination 
for  one  ^mrpose  is  quite  as  obvious  in  the  whole  pro- 
cedure, as  the  interpenetration  of  the  entire  body  by 
one  life. 

Now,  because  we  are  prepared  to  expect  a  resem- 
blance between  two  children  of  the  same  parents,  and 
between  two  works  of  the  same  author,  we  conclude 
that  God  also,  in  the  different  departments  of  His 
agency,  will  observe  a  similar  plan  and  method  of 
working.  The  organization  of  the  early  Church  came 
immediately  from  God ;  and,  therefore,  if  variety  in 
unity  was  the  law  of  this  organization,  we  should 
expect  to  find  variety  in  unity  in  other  things  also, 
which  God  has  organized.  And  if  in  that  which  is  on 
all  hands  admitted  to  be  a  work  of  God,  we  do  find 
variety  in  unity,  this  will  be  an  evidence  more  or  less 
satisfactory  to  thinking  minds  that  the  Church  of 
Christ,  which  was  originally  constructed  on  the  same 


IV.  I  in  the  Churc/i  of  Christ,  375 

principle,  in  wliich  even  now  the  samo  principle  of  cOd. 
stniction  is  discernible^  is  from  God  also. 

Now,  if  wo  look  into  Nature,  we  find  that  the  law 
which  pervades  tho  whole  of  it  is  variety  in  unity. 
Not  only  are  the  eommonest  objects  by  which  we  aro 
'  urroundcd  totally  different  in  species,  colour,  shapt^ 
material, — not  only  do  they  offer  phenomena  tot^iUy 
iliirorcnt  to  the  senses  of  sight,  and  touch,  and  tiiste,— . 
but  even  in  the  same  species,  and  even  in  tho  same 
individuals  of  the  samo  species,  tho  diversity  seems  to 
1  le  endless.  It  is^said  that  no  two  leaves  of  the  samo 
tree,  though  of  course  of  tho  same  general  configura- 
tion, ever  match  exactly,  so  as  to  lie  flat  on  the  table 
one  over  another  with  a  perfect  correspondence  of 
edges.  No  two  faces,  even  of  twins,  so  entirely  cor- 
respond, that  an  eye  familiar  with  them  by  constant 
intercourse  cannot  in  a  moment  detect  tho  dissimi- 
larity. Indeed^  in  Nature  the  variety  is  far  moro 
apparent  than  the  unity.  Science,  however,  is  con- 
tinually  bringing  to  light  an  unity  and  simplicity  of 
type  in  things  which  on  the  surface  are  most  different. 
^Vhat  objects  can  present  a  greater  superficial  diflfer* 
fiice  than  quadrupeds  and  fishes,  both  of  which 
however,  being  vertebrates,  are  formed  on  the  samo 
general  plan  ?  Nor  is  it  merely  a  resemblance  of  what 
may  be  called  ground-plan,  but  a  sameness  of  agency 
which  we  discover  in  the  different  works  of  creation. 
'J'iie  same  power  of  gravitation  which  ties  the  planets 
to  the  sun,  and  retains  them  in  their  orbits,  causes  the 
sere  and  shrivelled  autumnal  leaf  or  the  over-ripe  fruit 
to  fall  to  the  ground.  The  same  power  of  electricity 
hich  rives  the  strong  oak,  or  shatters  the  tall  spire, 
attracts  light  substances  towards  chafed  sealing-wax, 
and  forms  the  sport  of  children.     The  same  refraction 


37 Q     Of  the  great  Variety  of  Meiih  Characters    [pari 

of  the  rays  of  the  sun  produces  the  rainbow  in  tho 
heavens,  and  makes  the  tiny  dewdrop  under  our  feet  to 
twijikle  with  the  prismatic  colours.  Finally  we  can 
see  tolerably  clear  indications  that  the  various  parts  of 
the  Universe  are  working  together  for  one  end.  This 
at  all  events  is  the  case  as  regards  that  part  of  the 
domain  of  Nature  with  which  we  are  immediately 
surrounded.  Very  strong  forces  are  at  work  in  and 
around  the  earth ;  forces  which,  if  allowed  unlimited 
sway,  might  peril  the  planets'  existence ;  but  they  play 
into  one  another's  hands,  and  hold  one  another  in  equi- 
poise. The  matter  which  is  discharged  from  one  part 
of  the  system  reappears  in  another  under  a  new  form, 
and  there  serves  some  other  function ;  so  that  each 
atom  seems  to  have  its  vocation  and  its  place,  and  to 
fill  that  place,  and  correspond  to  that  vocation. 

Such  is  Nature, — an  immense  variety,  knit  together 
in  unity  by  sameness  of  plan,  sameness  of  agency,  same- 
ness of  object.  And  to  step  from  the  realm  of  Nature 
into  the  realm  of  Grace,  the  Word  of  God  presents 
undoubtedly  the  same  phenomenon.  The  Holy  Scrip- 
tures are  a  collection  of  books  written  under  a  great 
variety  of  circumstances,  and  at  a  great  variety  of 
times,  the  extreme  dates  between  which  the  different 
books  range  being  nearly  1600  years  asunder.  And  the 
Scriptures  are  as  different  in  kind,  as  they  are  in  the  dates 
of  their  publication.  In  the  short  volume  of  the  Bible 
we  have  histories,  biographies,  lyrical  poems,  dramatic 
poems  (the  Book  of  Job  belongs  to  this  class),  apho- 
risms, prophecies,  rituals,  letters.  No  two  compositions 
in  the  world  can  be  more  widely  different  in  superficial 
appearance  than  the  Book  of  Psalms  and  the  Epistle  to 
the  Romans,  the  Prophecy  of  Isaiah  and  the  Epistle  to 
Philemon,  the   Book  of  Ruth  and  the  Book  of  the 


i\. )  in  (he  Church  of  Christ, 

Revelation,  tho  Book  of  Leviticus  and  tho  Gospel  ao- 
oorJinp^  to   St.  Luke.     Yet,  in  addition  to  minor  fea- 
tures  of  resemblance,   which  concern  only  stylo   and 
method  of  treatment,  such  as  tho  thorough  simplicity 
■  f  all  tho  narratives,  and  tho  entire  absence  from  them 
il  of  exaggeration  and  rhetoricjil  ornament,  those  who 
have  studied  tho  Scriptures  under  the  light  of  faith  in 
riirist  Jesus,  arc  well  aware  that,  however  dissimilar, 
hey  arc  one  organic  whole,  knit  together  by  a  certain 
plan,  and  certain  principles,  which  underlie  tho  entire 
l)ook.     Tho  prophecy  of  the  Seed  of  the  woman,  which 
should   bruise   tho    serpent's    head,    is  manifestly  tho 
Mudous,  tho  single  cell  (to  take  an  image  from  the  form- 
.t ion  of  a  flower,)  round  which   tho  whole   Bible  has 
formed  itself,  of  which  the  whole  is  a  development,  on 
which  the  whole  is  a  commentary.    The  great  steps 
of  the  plan  which  runs   through  the  Bible  are  very 
( isy  to  trace.     A  nation  of  teachers  is  first  re-arcd  amidst 
irious  fortunes,  knit  together  by  the  endurance  of  a 
ommon  bondage,  and  impressed  with  marked  national 
eliaracteristics,  in  order  that  they  may  present  a  strong 
front  to  the  prevailing  idolatries  and  wickedness  of  tho 
Nvorld  ;  and  in  order  Ihat  they  may  disseminate  amongst 
ihor  people  of  the  earth  the  elementary  religious  no- 
ions  which  they  had  themselves  imbibed  from  the  Di- 
me teaching.     As  soon  as,  through  God's  wonderful 
IiMdings  with  them,  they  had  been  thoroughly  imbued 
with  these  notions,  they  wore  dispersed  among  the  na- 
tions of  the  earth,  and  made  to  sojourn  there.     By  their 
instrumentality  a   class  of  men  called  proselytes  are 
niised  up  in  Gentile  countries,  who,  attracted  by  tho 
elements  of  truth  which  there  were  in  the  Mosaic  re- 
ligion, adopt  it,  and  become  eventually  the  bridge  by 
which  the  Gospel  passes  from  the  Jewish  to  the  Gentile 


378     Of  the  great  Variety  of  Men^s  Characters    [part 

mind.  The  way  having  been  thus  prepared  for  Messiah 
in  the  hearts  of  men,  the  long-promised  Deliverer  ap 
pears  at  a  time  of  universal  peace,  and  when  the  union  of 
the  civilized  world  under  one  empire  was  favourable  to 
the  spread  of  the  tidings  of  salvation.  What  remain? 
of  the  Sacred  Volume  briefly  records  the  rapid  spread 
of  these  tidings,  gives  certain  comments  upon  them, 
and  predicts  the  complete  triumph  of  the  Messiah's 
cause.  Thus  there  is  an  uniform  plan,  running  through 
the  whole  of  Scripture,  and  cementing  together  its  vari- 
ous books,  inasmuch  as  the  entire  Old  Testament  looks 
forward  to  Messiah  historically, — represents"  the  stages 
of  discipline  by  which  the  Jews,  and  through  the  Jews 
the  human  race,  were  prepared  for  His  appearance. 
And  we  well  know  that  it  looks  forward  to  Messiah  in 
another  way,  typically  and  prophetically,  and  that  not 
only  all  the  ritual  of  the  Jews,  and  all  the  predictions 
of  their  prophets,  but  also  most  narratives  of  the  Old 
Testament,  foreshow  His  appearance  in  a  glass  darkly. 
Thus  in  the  Bible,  though  its  elements  are  so  various, 
there  is  a  glorious  harmony  of  design,  and,  as  the  whole 
of  it  emanates  from  one  Spirit,  a  harmony  of  agency 
also. 

If  then,  both  in  the  works  of  God  and  in  the  Word 
of  God,  we  find  that  variety  in  unity  is  the  prevail- 
ing law,  shall  we  not  expect  to  find  the  same  feature  in 
the  Church  of  God,  which,  quite  as  much  as  Nature, 
quite  as  much  as  Scripture,  is  His  workmanship, 
created  anew  "  in  Christ  Jesus  unto  good  works  ? " 
And  this  we  do  find.  The  members  of  the  Apostolic 
Church  had  various  gifts,  the  phenomena  of  which 
were  different,  some  consisting  in  speaking  with  tongues, 
some  in  healing  the  sick,  but  all  the  results  of  the 
agency  of  one  Spirit,  and  all  working  together  for  the 


IV.]  in  the  Church  of  ChrhL 

i^Ioiy  r.r  ono  Saviour.     But  it  may  bo  said  that  the 

<  'luircli  oC  modera  ti^u^s  is  not  furnishod  with  the  same 
•  i-^jniizjitiou  as  tho  ciirly  Church;  that  extraordinary 

and  miraculous  endowments  liavo  altof^ctlier  censed. 
This  is  true ;  but  it  is  true  also  tluit  all  these  super- 
uatunU  giA.s  rested  on  a  natural  basis,  bid  s(>iiiethin«jr  in 
I  ho  natural  endowment8  of  the  possessor's  mind  cor- 
responding to  tliem,  and  serving  as  the  nucleus  of  them. 
Thus,  for  example,  corresponding  to  the  gift  of  tongucss, 
^\•o  find*  in  some  persons  a  great  facility  of  acquiring 
huiguiiges ;  corresponding  to  the  gift  of  prophecy,  we 
iiid  in  others  a  natural  gift  of  high  and  fervid  elo- 
(uenee;  some  persons  even  now-a-days,  though  by  no 
iicans  original  or  brilliant^  have  such  a  wonderful  art  of 
imparting  what  they  know,  that  wo  can  hardly  be  said 
u>  have  lost  the  gift  of  teaching  ;  others  arc  admirably 
;nlapte*l  for  government,  for  the  control  of  other  wills 
and  the  organization  of  philanthropic  schemes ;  while 

<  vcn  tho  gift  of  miracles  itself,  the  most  supernatural 

<  "f  all,  rests  on  the  power  of  mind  over  matter,  of  which 
J  tower  wo  have  exemplifications  in  a  natural  way  even 
now-a^ays,.   ^,  ;  .  *  RmM5<,I       ' 

But  even  putting  out  of  the  qucsLion  the  capacities 
and  endowments  of  the  human  mind,  in  which  wo  find  a 
variety  as  great  as  in  the  miraculous  gifts,  this  wo  may 
certainly  say,  that  the  character  and  moral  temperament 
of  each  Individual  Christian  is  diflferent  from  tliat  of  hii 
neighbour.  So  it  was  of  old  ;  and  so  it  is  still.  In  the 
ncjtices  of  the  Apostles  and  other  early  believers,  God 
luis  sketched  for  us  not  only  edifying  pieces  of  biography, 
but  prototypes  of  all  Christians  to  the  end  of  time. 
Thus  St.  John  represents  the  contemplative  and  stu- 
dious disciple     No  single  miracle  is  ever  recorded  aa 


380      Of  the  great  Variety  of  Men'' s  Characters    [part 

having  been  wrought  by  him ;  and  in  the  outward 
spread  of  the  Gospel,  although  no  doubt  he  did  his  work, 
he  is  not  nearly  so  prominent  a  figure  as  St.  Peter,  and 
does  not  for  a  moment  reach  the  world-wide  celebrity  of 
St.  Paul.  Very  thoughtful  men,  who  live  much  with 
themselves,  are  by  no  means  so  influential  with  others 
as  those  who,  vividly  apprehending  certain  simple 
topics,  go  forth  to  proclaim  them  without  any  profound 
reflection  upon  them.  St.  Peter  governs  with  a  firm 
hand,  and  with  the  now  chastened  and  disci  pi  inied  will, 
which  belongs  to  an  impetuous  temper  ;  he  is  the  great 
bulwark  and  rock  of  the  Church,  breasting  its  perils 
and  responsibilities  gallantly,  before  St.  Paul  appears  ; 
Apollos  is  an  eloquent  declaimer  who  blends  to  the 
best  effect  his  knowledge  of  the  Greek  rhetoric,  with 
that  higher  knowledge,  in  respect  of  which  he  is  said  to 
have  been  "  mighty  in  the  Scriptures  ;  "  Barnabas  sheds 
around  him,  wherever  he  goes,  the  quiet  healing  influ- 
ence of  a  man  felt  to  be  good,  and  full  of  faith ; — he 
has  a  still  small  voice  of  consolation  for  those  upon 
whom  the  hand  of  God  is  heavy ;  Timothy  has  imbibed 
the  lessons  of  piety  with  his  mother's  milk,  and,  being 
trained  up  as  a  child  in  the  way  he  should  go,  has  not 
departed  from  it  as  a  young  man ;  but  he  is  somewhat 
timid  and  pliable,  and  exceedingly  apt  to  be  moulded  by 
a  superior  will ;  while  Paul,  in  powers  of  physical  and 
mental  endurance,  in  the  expansiveness  of  his  affections, 
in  his  vivid  appreciation  of  his  own  remarkable  ex- 
perience, is  God's  chiefest  instrument  for  the  diff'usion 
of  the  glad  tidings.  These,  if  I  may  so  express  it,  are 
some  of  the  moulds  in  which  Christian  character  was 
cast,  when  Christianity  first  appeared,  and  in  which  we 
may  expect  that  it  will  continue  to  bo  cast  now-a-days. 


nr.]  in  the  Church  of  Christ.  381 

Tho  types  are  strong  types  ;  still,  althougii  modaru 
lays  may  show  somewhat  feebler  impressions  of  them, 
ihey  are  still  the  same,  although  less  marked. 

Now  in  what  h.'is  been  said  there  is  wrapped  up 
both  comfort  for  oui'sclves,  and  a  lesson  of  ]iri:(^fharitv 
towards-  others. 

1.  Let  us  not  distress  ourselves,  either  that  we  were 
not  brought  to  God,  or  that  wo  arc  not  now  serving 
God,  in  tho  same  way  as  some  others,  who  seem  to  bo 
models  of  a  very  cjcemplary  and  exalted  piety.  Certain 
preacliers,  and  still  more  certain  writers  of  religious 
books,  construct  a  sort  of  Procrustean  framework,  as  a 
model  for  all  cases  of  real  conversion,  and  intimate  that, 
if  you  cjmnot  accommodate  your  own  experience  to  that 
^tiflf  frame, — if  you  have  never  felt  paroxysms  of  alarm 
:it  the  threatcnings  of  the  law,  or  paroxysms  of  ecstasy 
at  the  announcements  of  the  Gospel, — ^your  heart  is  not 
at  this  moment  right  with  God.  Nothing  can  be  inorc 
erroneous  philosophically,  or  more  untrue  scripturally. 
God's  ways  of  influencing  the  human  mind  for  good 
vary  infinitely, — vary  first,  with  the  original  character 
of  the  mind,  on  which  tho  Holy  Ghost  has  to  operate ; 
(Hid,  secondly,  with  the  acquired  sliape  which  that 
mind  has  taken  from  tho  circumstances  in  which  it 
has  been  throN>ii,  and  from  its  whole  history  and  ex- 
perience. On  the  same  page  of  Scripture  there  is  the 
record  of  two  most  remarkable  conversions,  as  dififerent 
from  each  other  as  any  two  processes  of  mind,  leading 
to  the  same  result,  can  by  possibility  be.  Lydia,  the 
purple-seller  of  Thyatira,  became  a  Christian  through 
the  gentle  opening  of  the  heart,  as  by  the  quiet  river- 
side she  attended  to  the  things  which  were  spoken  of 
Paul.  The  Philippian  gaoler  is  converted,  on  the  other 
hand,  in  a  manner  such  as  might  be  expected  trom  the 


382     Of  the  great  Variety  of  MerCs  Characters    [pakt 

previous  habits  of  ignorance  and  vice  in  wliich,  we  mav 
reasonably  suppose,  he  had  been  sunk.  He  is  shaken 
with  strong  alarm,  as  if  over  the  pit  of  hell,  (nothing 
else  would  have  broken  bonds  so  firmly  riveted,)  and 
"  he  called  for  a  light,  and  sprang  in,  and  came  trembling, 
and  fell  down  before  Paul  and  Silas,  and  said,  Sirs,  what 
must  I  do  to  be  saved  1 "  Lydia  experienced  no  such 
alarm,  but  only  a  gentle  opening  of  the  heart,  peaceful 
as  the  undulations  of  the  river  ;  yet  was  she  none  the 
less  a  disciple  of  our  Lord,  and  none  the  less  dear  to 
Him.  The  critical,  all-important  question  for  all  of  us 
is,  whether  we  be  indeed  Christ's  at  present,  and  are 
following  the  lead  of  His  Spirit;  if  so,  how  we  were 
brought  to  Him,  whether  by  the  quiet  drawings  of 
gratitude  and  love,  or  by  the  gradual  growth  of  re- 
flectiveness, and  our  experience  of  life's  hollowness,  or 
by  the  trepidations  of  alarm,  is  but  of  little  moment. 

And  then,  again,  as  to  our  method  of  serving  Him. 
This  must  depend  on  our  capacities,  our  endowments, 
the  position  which  we  providentially  occupy,  and  the 
opportunities  which  it  gives  us.  It  may  not  be  a  high 
work,  or  a  widely  influential  work,  which  we  are  doing 
for  God,  but  then  it  may  not  be  a  high  work,  or  a 
widely  influential  work,  to  which  He  has  called  us. 
We  may,  of  course,  be  working  below  the  measure  of 
the  gift  which  God  has  distributed  to  us,  leav  ing  the 
talent  which  our  Master  left  with  us  unimproved,  and 
not  putting  it  out  to  the  exchangers,  so  that  at  His 
coming  He  may  receive  His  own  with  usury.  That  is 
a  point  to  be  looked  to,  and  carefully  considered.  But 
the  mere  brilliancy  of  the  position  occupied  by  another, 
or  the  brilliancy  of  the  gifts  which  qualify  him  for  that 
position,  should  never  make  us  indulge  in  an  unquiet 
longing  to  be  or  to  do  what  God  h/vs  not  fitted  us  for, 


i\ .  ]  in  the  Church  of  C(trUt. 

and  ^hich,  therefore,  He  will  never  require  from  us. 
If  not  called,  and  not  fitted,  (and  the  fitness  ia  the 
evidence  of  the  call,)  we  could  not  undertake  such  a 
thinfr  without  a  most  censurable  presumption.  "I 
^\ould  undertake  to  govern  a  hundred  empires,"  sai«l 
1  >r.  l*ayson,  "  if  God  called  me  to  it,  but  I  would  not 
\mdertiike  to  goveni  a  hundred  sheep,  unless  He  called 
me." 

"S.  But,  again,  a  lesson  of  large  charity  to  others  is  to 
be  learned  from  what  has  been  said.  We  ought,  if 
rightly  minded,  to  rejoice  in  the  exuberance  and  variety 
of  the  spiritual  gifts  possessed  by  Christians,  just  as  yto 
delight  in  the  rich  variety  of  Nature,  or  in  thnt  of  the 
Word  of  God.  There  are  many  lines  of  thought  in 
Religion,  many  forms  which  practical  -  and  personal 
piety  takes,  although,  of  course,  they  are  all  animated 
l>y  the  same  essential  principles.  St  John  and  St  Paul 
were  both  equally  devoted  to  the  cause  and  Person  of 
our  Lord,  yet  no  two  men  ever  existed  wlio  manifested 
this  devotion  in  shapes  more  different.  Both  these 
members  held  of  the  Head  by  a  living  union,  but  they 
dischai^ed  for  the  Head  functions  altogether  different. 
Let  us  not  conceive  of  all  genuine  religion  as  moving 
in  one  groove  of  feeling  and  practice,  and  refuse  to 
acknowledge  any  man  as  a  Christian,  because  he  does 
not  run  upon  our  own  particular  groove.  There  are 
several  points  of  view  from  which  Christianity  may  be 
surveyed  ;  and  although  it  be  one  and  the  same  object, 
from  whatever  point  we  look,  y(ft  eyes  placed  on  dif 
ferent  levels  will  see  it  grouped  in  different  per- 
spectives. Our  own  view  of  it  is  at  best  but  partial 
and  fragmentary ;  let  us  rejoice  in  the  fact  that  others 
see  it  somewhat  differently,  and  that  their  view,  in- 
stead of  being  contradictory  to  our  own,  is  in  fact  the 


884  Of  the  great  Variety,  d-c.  [part 

complement  of  it.  It  seems  to  be  God's  plan  and 
purpose  that  each  individual  Christian  should  exhibit, 
in  the  peculiarity  of  his  circumstances,  education, 
moral  temperament,  and  mental  endowments,  a  new 
specimen  of  redeeming  love  and  grace.  By  various 
discipline  here  He  fits  and  polishes  each  living  stone  for 
the  place  which  it  is  destined  to  occupy  in  the  Spiritual 
Temple;  and  when  all  the  stores  are  made  ready,  He 
will  build  them  together  each  into  its  place,  and  exhibit 
to  men  and  angels  their  perfect  unity.  Aaron  has 
been  bred  under  his  paternal  roof,  and  inured  to 
Egyptian  servitude  from  childhood.  Moses  has  been 
lapped  in  royal  luxury  from  his  infancy,  educated  at  a 
court)  and  then  banished  into  a  wilderness.  But  the 
time  came  when  these  brothers  in  blood,  so  dissimilar 
in  training,  so  opposite  in  their  experience,  so  different, 
possibly,  in  some  of  the  judgments  which  they  had 
formed  of  God's  ways,  met  never  to  part  again  in  this 
life.  "  The  Lord  said  unto  Aaron,  Go  into  the  wilder- 
ness to  meet  [Mf^oses.  And  he  went,  and  met  him  in  the 
Mount  of  God,,  and  kissed  him."  So  shall  it  be  with 
all  true  Christians,  whose  history,  discipline,  sentiments, 
have  here  taken  a  course  which  seemed  far  enough 
asunder.  A  meeting  and  a  greeting  is  reserved  for  all 
of  them  in  the  mount  of  God, — let  them  "  see  "  to  it. 
as  Joseph  said  to  his  Brethren,  "  that  they  fall  not  out 
by  the  way." 


IV.]  Of  the  Idea  of  Sacrifice ^  d'c,  885 


CHAPTER  IX. 

or  Tm:  idea  of  sacrifice,  as  PKit>  a  i m  ^ ,  1 1 i  i: 

CIIBISTIAN'S  LIFE. 

"  An  holy  priesthood,  to  offer  up  tpirihial  Mcrifictiy  aeceptabU  to 
OodbtfJem*  Chri*L''—\  Pit.  ii.  6. 

It  is  a  rule  all  but  universal,  if  wc  cannot  say  that  it 
admits  of  no  exception,  that  all  known  forms  of  Religion 
which  havo  existed  upon  CArth,  have  involved  the  idea 
of  sacrifice  as  a  leading  and  principal  feature  of  them. 
The  Jews,  we  know,  practised  sacrifice  largely  by 
Divine  appointment, — practised  it  in  every  shape 
which  the  idea  of  sacrifice  can  assume.  They  had 
their  sin-offerings  and  their  trespass-ofierings  for  the 
expiation  of  guilt,  their  thank-oflferings  in  acknow^- 
lexlgment  of  mercies  received,  their  burnt-offerings  and 
meat-offerings  for  the  acceptance  of  the  worshipper, 
their  free-will  offerings,  for  his  spontaneous  recognition 
of  God  out  of  the  fulness  of  an  adoring  heart.  In 
short,  theirs  was  a  sacrificial  system,  minute  in  all  its 
details,  and  perfect  in  all  its  parts.  Among  the  heathen 
nations  of  antiquity,  we  find  floating  shadows  of  these 
various  oflerings,  looking  like  portions  of  the  Jewish 
system  disintegrated  and  broken  up  among  the  different 
tribes  of  Gentiles.  Before  meals,  the  ancients  would 
lK)ur  out  a  drink-offering  to  one  of  their  gods,  they 
would  make  a  votive  oflfering  to  them  after  any  great 
escape  or  deliverance,  and,  on  occasions  of  public  re- 
joicing or  humiliation,  they  would  expose  the  images  of 
the  gods  on  couches  before  tables  loaded  with  dainties. 
Whence  came  practices  so  universal  in  connexion  with 
religion  ? — a  question  the  more  pertinent,  because 
sacrifice  does  not  on  the  surface  approve  itself  to  our 
17 


386  Of  the  Idea  of  Sacrifice,  [part 

minds  as  a  reasonable  form  of  worship.  Independently 
of  God's  appointment,  we  cannot  say  with  truth  that 
the  slaughter  of  a  poor  animal,  or  the  laying  a  basket 
of  fruit  by  the  side  of  an  altar,  seems  likely,  in  the 
nature  of  things,  to  be  a  form  of  homage  acceptable  to 
the  Supreme  Being.  No  doubt,  the  appearance  of 
sacrifice  in  all  heathen  forms  of  religion  is  to  be  ac- 
counted for  partly  by  a  tradition  derived  from  the  first 
fathers  of  the  human  race.  The  remembrance  of  Noah's 
sacrifice  after  the  flood  would  be  carried  away  by  his 
descendants  into  the  various  countries  of  their  dispersion, 
and  there,  in  lapse  of  time,  degenerate  and  run  wild  in 
a  thousand  fantastic  shapes.  Meanwhile  the  holy  seed 
from  Noah  to  Abraham,  from  Abraham  to  Moses,  and 
from  Moses  onwards,  would  retain  the  true  idea  and  the 
true  practice  of  sacrifice,  which  was  a  slip  of  God's  own 
graft;ing.  We  can  scarcely,  however,  think  that,  even 
with  the  help  of  a  primeval  tradition,  sacrifice  would  so 
long  have  maintained  its  ground  among  all  the  nations 
of  heathendom,  had  there  not  been  some  common  sen- 
timent or  instinct  of  the  human  heart,  instigating  men 
to  it.  And  such  an  instinct  there  unquestionably  is. 
In  the  rudest  mind  which  recognizes  a  God,  there 
exists  a  desire  to  give  Him  some  acknowledgment, 
which  may  be  acceptable  to  Him,  and  a  feeling  that  He 
has  a  claim  upon  us  for  such  an  acknowledgment,  and 
will  require  it  of  us.  Mix  up  this  rude  feeling  with  the 
universal  instinct  of  guilt, — which  is  to  dread  a  superior 
power,  and  to  long  to  propitiate  it,  and  then  view  the 
practice  of  sacrifice  as  meeting  this  longing,  and  on 
that  account  readily  adopted ;  and  we  shall  probably 
find  here  the  explanation  of  its  universal  prevalence. 

It  is  a  curious  fact,  as  showing  the  hold  which  the 
idea    of   sacrifice   has   upon   the   human   mind,   that 


fv.]  as  pervading  the  Christianas  Life,  387 

although  all  literal  sacrifices  wero  abolished  or  mthei 
superseded,  by  Christianity,  the  groat  corruption  ot 
Christianity,  which,  alas !  has  prevailed  more  cxten 
sively  than  its  purer  forms,  still  recognizes  a  literal 
sacrifico  as  its  centre.  The  whole  system  of  Roman- 
ism revolves,  if  I  may  so  say,  round  the  sacrifice  of  the 
Mass,  which  the  priest  is  supposed  to  ofler  for  the 
quick  and  the  dead.  The  doctrine  of  such  a  Sacrifico 
in  the  Holy  Communion  is  justly  stigmatized  in  our 
Thirty-first  Article  as  a  "  blasphemous  fable,  and  a 
dangerous  deceit ; " — it  is  one  of  the  many  grievous  and 
frightful  perversions  of  what  is  called  the  religious  in- 
stinct.  We  adduce  it  hero  merely  as  an  evidence  how 
deeply  rooted  in  men's  hearts  is  the  notion  of  sacrifice 
in  connexion  with  religion,  which  shows  that  there  is 
something  in  us  which  longs  for  sacrifice,  and  will  not 
be  content  without  doing  it  in  some  shape  or  other, — in 
an  idolatrous  and  corrupt  shape,  if  not  in  that  which 
God  prescribes. 

It  is  vain,  utterly  vain,  to  seek  to  rectify  errors  of 
this  kind  by  merely  decrying  them,  or  enlisting  on  a 
crusade  against  them.  Human  nature  is  too  strong  for 
us,  and  defies  the  effort  we  make  to  undo  or  suppress 
any  part  of  its  original  constitution.  Let  us  seek 
rather  to  show  in  what  part  of  pure  and  true  religion 
such  instincts  may  find  their  satisfaction ;  and  then  we 
may  hope  to  draw  men  off  from  error  effectually,  be- 
cause we  shall  be  filling  the  void  space  in  their  minds 
which  at  present  error  offers  to  fill. 

First,  then,  it  is  obvious  to  remark  that  the  Sacrifico 
of  the  Life  and  Death  of  Christ  (for  His  Life,  no  less 
than  His  Death,  was  in  a  most  important  sense  a 
Sacrifice)  is  the  very  core  and  centre  of  the  Christian 
Religion.     From  this  centre  the  whole  system  borrows 


388  Of  the  Idea  of  Sacrifice,  [paet 

light  and  vital  heat,  as  the  planetary  system  from  the 
Sun.  "He  hath  given  Himself  for  us,"  says  the 
Apostle,  "  an  offering  and  a  sacrifice  to  God  for  a  sweet- 
smelling  savour," — expressing  here,  we  apprehend,  the 
oblation  of  the  life,  thoughts,  ways,  and  sentiments  of 
Christ,  which,  as  being  altogether  holy,  were  infinitely 
acceptable  to  a  holy  God.  Again  ;  "  He  gave  Himself 
for  our  sins  ; " — "  He  was  made  sin  for  us,  who  knew 
no  sin  ; " — "  this  man  after  he  had  offered  one  sacrifice 
for  sins  ;  " — "  He  himself  bare  our  sins  in  his  own  body 
on  the  tree  ;  " — passages  which  refer  to  the  Sacrifice  of 
Christ's  Death,  the  only  real  expiatory  sacrifice,  which 
has  been,  or  can  be,  ever  offered.  By  way  of  explain- 
ing this  distinction,  which  is  of  great  importance,  but 
which  may  not  be  familiar  to  all  minds,  it  should  be 
observed,  that  the  offerings  prescribed  by  the  Levitical 
Law  fell  into  two  entirely  distinct  classes.  The  one 
class  were  called  sweet-savour  offerings,  and  were  for 
the  acceptance  of  the  worshipper ;  the  thought  in 
them  was,  man  giving  to  God  something  which  God 
views  with  complacency.  The  second  class  consisted 
of  the  sin  and  trespass  offerings,  and  are  never  said 
to  be  of  a  sweet  savour;  in  them  the  thought  was 
man,  as  a  transgressor,  enduring  the  curse  which  sin 
has  entailed.  Our  Blessed  Lord  endured  this  curse, 
when,  upon  the  Cross,  He  poured  out  Llis  soul  unto 
death ;  as  it  is  said :  "  Christ  hath  redeemed  us  from 
the  curse  of  the  Law,  being  made  a  curse  for  us  ;  for  it 
it  written,  Cursed  is  every  one  that  hangeth  on  a  tree." 
But  before  He  became  our  sin  and  trespass  offering,  He 
had  been  our  sweet-savour  offering,  presenting  to  the 
Father  a  human  heart  all  aflame,  as  no  human  heart 
but  His  ever  yet  was,  with  heavenly  love  and  zeal,  a 
life  wholly  devoted  to  the  service  of  God  and  man,  and 


iv.]  as  pervading  the  Christianas  Life,  389 

tho  only  pure  worship  which  since  the  days  of  Eden 
had  ever  ascended  from  tlic  Earth.  (I  stop  aside  for  a 
moment  to  remark  how  utterly  witliout  foundation  in 
Scripture  are  all  such  incautious  expressions  as  that  tho 
Father  viewed  with  complacency  the  Suflerings  and 
Death  of  His  dear  Son ;  a  totally  different  position  from 
the  undoubtedly  true  one,  that  those  Sufferings  and  that 
Death  were  demanded  by  the  Divine  Justice.  Christ 
in  dying  was  offering  the  sin-offering,  which  was  not  of 
a  sweet  savour,  and  tho  idea  of  which  was  not  man,  as  a 
Worshipper,  giving  to  God  that  with  which  God  is  well 
pleased,  but  man,  as  a  sinner,  bearing  God's  curse. 
Justice  must  be  had  upon  malefactors;  but  even 
among  men  the  execution  of  the  death-sentence  is 
never  viewed  with  complacency  or  satisfaction.  How 
shall  it  be  supposed  that  the  infmitely  loving  Father  of 
all  finds  satisfaction  in  the  course  of  Justice  ?  But  to 
return.)  Tliis  sacrifice  of  the  life  and  death  of  Christ 
is  the  essential  foundation  of  every  acceptable  offering 
which  can  be  made  to  God  ;  so  that  we  may  call  Christ 
in  ^  figurative  sense  the  only  true  Altar,  apart  from 
which  our  poor  miserable  gifts  and  services  can  find  no 
acceptance. 

Observe,  however,  that  it  is  the  certain  doctrine  of 
Scripture  that  God  requires  from  Christians, — not 
indeed  a  sin  or  trespass  offering,  which  we  could  never 
render, — ^but  offerings  of  sweet  savour,  as  a  testimony 
of  their  love  and  gratitude.  I  say  emphatically,  not  a 
sin-offering.  As  far  as  Christ's  work  was  propitiatory, 
it  stands  absolutely  alone.  "  He  offered  one  sacrifice 
for  sins ; "  "  He  was  once  offered,  to  bear  the  sins  of 
many.'*  But  although  no  sufferings,  no  works,  no 
worship  of  ours  can  in  the  least  degree  propitiate, 
though  we  are  effectually  precluded  from  joining  in  the 


300  Of  the  Idea  of  Sacrifice,  [rARi 

expiatory  part  of  Christ's  Sacrifice,  God  still  requires 
frojn  us  offerings  of  another  character.  These  are 
generally  described  as  "  spiritual  sacrifices,"  which  we 
are  ordained  to  oflfer, — "  an  holy  priesthood,  to  oflfer  up 
spiritual  sacrifices,  acceptable  to  God  by  Jesus  Christ.'' 
Christ  is  said  in  the  Revelation  to  have  made  Christians 
"  priests  to  God  and  his  Father  ; "  and,  if  priests,  it  is 
of  necessity  that  they  should  have  somewhat  to  offer. 
More  particularly,  we  are  exhorted  to  the  sacrifice  of 
our  bodies,  the  thought  being  that  the  various  mem- 
bers of  the  body  should  be  yielded  as  instruments  of 
righteousness  unto  God, — the  mouth  to  proclaim  His 
word,  the  eyes  to  gaze  on  His  works,  the  hands  to  do 
Him  service,  the  feet  to  walk  on  His  errands.  "  I 
beseech  you  therefore,  brethren,  by  the  mercies  of  God, 
that  ye  present  your  bodies  a  living  sacrifice,  holy, 
acceptable  unto  God,  which  is  your  reasonable  service." 
Again.  Praise  is  specified  as  a  sacrifice ; — "  By  him 
therefore  let  us  oflfer  the  sacrifice  of  praise  to  God  con- 
tinually, that  is,  the  fruit  of  our  lips,  giving  thanks  to 
His  Name."  And  as  the  surrender  of  what  we  have 
will  naturally  follow,  and  be  the  just  expression  of  self- 
surrender,  it  is  added, — "  But  to  do  good,  and  to  com- 
municate, forget  not ;  for  tvith  such  sacrifices  God  is 
well  pleased^  And  the  same  thought  appears  in  the 
Epistle  to  the  Philippians,  where  the  sweet-savour 
offerings  are  expressly  referred  to,  and  shown  to  be 
competent  to  Christians :  *'  I  am  full,  having  received 
of  Epaphroditus  the  things  which  were  sent  from  you, 
an  odour  of  a  sweet  smell,  a  sacrifice  acceptable,  well- 
pleasing  to  God." 

It  is  extremely  interesting  to  remark  how,  while 
carefully  stripping  the  second  Sacrament  of  the  false 
plumage  of  an  expiation,  with  which  mediaeval  super- 


rv.]  as  pervading  the  Christianas  Life.  391 

stition  had  tricked  it  out,  our  Reformers  havo  main- 
Uiiicd  tlio  doctrine  of  a  threefold  sacrifice  in  the  Holy 
(onimunion,  or  culminating  act  of  Christian  Worship, — 
a  sacrijice  of  ahis  made  in  the  Offertory,  and  referred 
to  in  one  of  the  passages  just  quoted, — a  sacrijice  of 
praise,  adverted  to  in  the  words,  "  wo  entirely  desire 
Thy  fatherly  goodness  mercifully  to  accept  this  our 
sacrifice  of  praise  and  thanksgiving ; "  and  a  sacrijice  of 
self  referred  to  in  a  subsequent  part  of  the  same  prayer, 
— ^  And  here  wo  offer  and  present  unto  Thee,  O  Lord, 
ourselves  and  souls  and  bodies^  to  be  a  reasonable,  holy 
and  lively  sacrijice  unto  Thee." 

Now  out  of  the  many  forms  in  which  a  devout  life 
may  present  itself  to  the  mind,  there  is  none  perhaps 
more  attractive  tlian  that  of  a  constant  oblation  to 
God  of  all  that  we  are,  all  tliat  we  have,  and  all  that 
we  do.  Let  the  thought  of  Sacrifice  be  woven  into  the 
texture  of  our  lives,  let  us  study  to  turn  not  our 
prayers  alone,  but  our  whole  daily  course  and  con- 
versation into  an  offering ;  surely  the  thought  that  God 
will  accept  it,  if  offered  to  Him  in  Union  with  the 
merits  of  His  Son,  is  in  the  greatest  degree  encouraging, 
— a  wonderful  stimulus  to  exertion.  Some  divines  so 
cruelly  strain  the  undoubtedly  true  and  precious  doc- 
trine, that  man  can  do  nothing  propitiatory,  or  intrin- 
sically meritorious,  as  to  leave  their  readers  or  hearers 
under  the  conclusion  that  they  can  do  nothing  to  please 
God.  Because  we  are  not  competent  to  a  sin-oflering, 
they  would  have  us  believe,  forsooth,  that  no  sweet- 
savour  offerings  are  open  to  us.  A  blank  prospect, 
and  very  depressing  to  energy  ;  for  what  can  be  more 
depressing  than  the  belief  which  is  sometimes  practically 
instilled,  that  by  no  frame  of  mind,  or  course  of  conduct, 
can  the  believer  secure  the  loving  approbation  of  his 


392  Of  the  Idea  of  Sacrifice,  [paet 

Heavenly  Father  ? — a  tenet  in  flat  opposition  to  those 
words  :  "  We  beseech  you,  brethren,  and  exhort  you  by 
the  Lord  Jesus,  that  as  ye  have  received  of  us  how  ye 
ought  to  walk  and  to  please  God^  so  ye  would  abound 
more  and  more." 

"  To  please  God,*  — what  a  privilege  to  lie  open  to 
us  day  by  day,  and  every  hour  of  the  day  !  What  a 
condescension  in  our  Heavenly  Father,  when  vre  con- 
sider the  strictness  of  His  justice,  the  impurity  of  our 
hearts,  and  our  many  and  degrading  falls,  to  allow  us  to 
please  Him  !  That  we  are  suffered  to  bring  a  tribute 
to  Him,  which,  when  laid  upon  the  one  true  Altar,  and 
united  with  the  one  true  Sacrifice,  will  be  received  by 
Him  with  complacency  and  satisfaction,  what  a  dignity 
for  sinful  flesh  and  blood  to  be  heir  to  I  Now  if  we 
truly  appreciate  this  dignity,  let  us  show  that  we  do  so, 
by  availing  ourselves  of  the  many  opportunities  offered 
to  us  of  pleasing  God,  by  an  acceptable  tribute.  An 
act  of  self-oblation,  (couched,  perhaps,  in  the  very 
w^ords  already  quoted  from  the  Communion  Service,  or 
in  others  equivalent,)  may  usefully  form  part  of  every 
Morning's  Devotion,  and  remind  us  of  the  great 
thought  which  should  run  through  the  day.  Then  as 
to  our  devotional  exercises  themselves;  the  thought 
that  Prayer  is  an  incense,  kindled  in  the  censer  of  the 
heart  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  most  fragrant  and 
acceptable  to  God,  if  offered  through  the  intercession 
of  Christ,  and  with  faith  in  His  Sacrifice,  may  surely 
be  a  great  help  to  us  in  offering  Prayer,  But  it  is  the 
uniform  scope  and  tendency  of  Grace,  as  it  acquires  a 
greater  mastery  over  the  will,  to  amalgamate  the  spirit 
of  devotion  with  our  common  actions,  and  more  and 
more  to  transfer  Prayer  into  our  daily  employments, 
80  that  these  too  may  become  a  sacrifice.     We  need  not 


rv.]  OB  pervading  the  Christianas  Life,  303 

go  far  to  seek  tho  materials  of  an  aoccptablo  ofTcring ; 
they  lie  all  around  us,  in  tho  work  of  our  callings,  in 
tho  little  calls  which  Divine  Providence  daily  makes  to 
us,  in  tho  littlo  crosses  which  God  requires  us  to  take 
up,  nay,  in  our  very  recreations.  The  great  point  is  to 
have  tho  mind  set  upon  seeing  and  seeking  in  all  things 
tho  service  of  Christ  and  tho  glory  of  God,  and,  lo ! 
every  trifling  incident  which  that  mind  touches,  every 
piece  of  work  which  it  handles,  every  dispensation  to 
which  it  submits,  becomes  at  onco  a  sacrifice. 

"  If  in  our  daily  coarse  our  mind 
Be  set  to  hallovr  all  we  And, 
New  treasures  still  of  countless  price, 
God  will  provide  for  sacriGce. 
We  need  not  bid,  for  cloistcr'd  cell, 
Our  neighbour  and  our  work  farewell. 
Nor  strive  to  wind  ourselves  too  high 
For  sinful  man  beneath  the  sky ; 
The  trivial  roand,  the  common  task 
Would  furnish  all  we  ought  to  ask, 
Room  to  deny  ourselves— a  road 
To  bring  us  daily  nearer  God." 

If  we  allow  the  beauties  of  Nature  to  raise  our  heart 
to  God,  we  turn  them  into  &  sacrifice.  If  cross  inci- 
dents, which  could  not  bo  avoided  or  averted,  are  taken 
sweetly  and  lovingly,  out  of  homage  to  the  loving  will 
of  God,  this  too  is  a  sacrifice.  If  work  be  done  in  tho 
full  view  of  God's  assignment  of  our  several  tasks  and 
spheres  of  labour,  and  under  the  consciousness  of  His 
Presence,  however  secular  in  its  character,  it  imme- 
diately becomes  fit  for  presentation  on  the  Altar.  If 
refreshmentc  and  amusements  are  so  moderated,  as  to 
help  the  spirit  instead  of  dissipating  it,  if  they  are 
seasoned  with  tho  wholesome  salt  of  self-denial,  (for 
every  sacrifice  must  be  seasoned  with  salt,)  they,  too. 


394  Of  the  Idea  of  Sacrifice,  dr.  [paiit 

become  an  holy  oblation.  If  we  study  even  perverse 
characters,  with  a  loving  hope  and  belief  that  we  shall 
find  something  of  God  and  of  Christ  in  them,  which 
may  be  made  the  nucleus  of  better  things,  and,  instead 
of  shutting  ourselves  up  in  a  narrow  sphere  of  sym- 
pathy, seek  out,  and  try  to  develope,  the  good  points 
of  a  generally  uncongenial  spirit ;  if  we  treat  men  as 
Christ  treated  them,  accounting  that  somew^here  in 
every  one  there  is  a  better  mind,  and  a  trace  of  God's 
finger  in  Creation,  we  may  thus  possibly  sanctify  an  hour 
which  else  would  be  one  of  irksome  constraint,  and  after 
which  we  might  have  been  oppressed  with  tbe  heavy 
feeling  that  it  had  been  a  wasted  one.  If  a  small  trifle, 
desthied  to  purchase  some  personal  luxury  or  comfort, 
be  diverted  to  a  charitable  and  religious  end,  this  is  the 
regular  and  standing  sacrifice  of  alms,  recognized  by 
Scripture  and  the  Liturgy.  And,  finally,  if  we  regard 
our  Time  as,  next  to  Christ  and  the  Holy  Spirit,  the 
most  precious  gift  of  God ;  if  we  gather  up  the  frag- 
ments and  interstices  of  it  in  a  thrifty  and  religious 
manner,  and  employ  them  in  some  exercise  of  devotion, 
or  some  good  and  useful  work,  this  too  becomes  a 
tribute  which  God  will  surely  accept  with  complacency, 
if  laid  upon  His  Altar,  and  united  by  faith  and  a 
devout  intention  with  the  one  Sacrifice  of  our  dear 
Lord. 

Yes  ;  if  laid  upon  His  Altar  :  let  us  never  forget  or 
drop  out  of  sight  that  proviso.  It  is  the  Altar,  and  the 
Altar  alone,  which  sanctifieth  the  gift.  Apart  from 
Christ  and  His  perfect  Sacrifice,  an  acceptable  gift  is 
an  impossibility  for  man.  For  at  best  our  gifts  have  in 
them  the  sinfulness  of  our  nature ;  they  are  miserably 
flawed  by  defectiveness  of  motive,  duplicity  of  aim,  in- 
firmity  of  will.     "  The  prayers   of  all  saints,"  wliat 


iv,]  Of  allowing  in  our  Minds^  Ac,  305 

force  of  impctration  must  they  have  with  GocI,  if,  as  wo 
are  assured, "  the  cflectual  fervent  prayer  of  a  **  (single) 
'*  righteous  man  availeth  much  !  "  Yet  when  St.  John 
saw  in  a  vision  "  the  prayers  of  all  saints  "  oflercd  by 
an  angel  "  upon  the  golden  altar  which  was  before  the 
throne,"  it  was  in  union  with  that  which  alone  can  per- 
fume the  tainted  offerings  of  even  regenerate  man ; 
"  There  was  given  unto  him  much  incense,  that  he  should 
offer  it  with  the  prayers  of  all  saints  upon  the  golden 
altar  which  was  before  the  throne." 

The  incense  is  the  Intercession  of  Jesus.  Place 
your  offering, — be  it  prayer,  or  almsdeed,  or  work,  or 
submission, — in  His  hands  for  presentation  ;  pray  llim, 
as  your  only  Priest,  to  transact  for  you  with  God,  and 
He  will  do  so.  And  the  sun  of  God's  favour  shall 
shine  out  upon  that  offering,  and  the  dew  of  His  bless- 
ing shall  descend  upon  it,  and  you  shall  be  gladdened 
with  your  Father's  smile. 


CHAPTER  X. 

OF  ALLOWING  IN  OUR  MINDS  A  PREPONDERANCE  TO 
TRIFLES. 

**  Woe  unto  you^  Scribes  and  Fharisees^  hypocrite*  t  for  ye  pay  tithe 
of  mint  and  anise  and  cummin^  and  have  omitted  the  weight- 
ier matters  of  the  laWj  judgment,  mercy,  and  faith:  these 
ought  ye  to  have  done,  and  not  to  leave  the  other  undone^ — 
Matt.  xxiiL  23. 

In  the  course  of  our  thoughts  on  Personal  Religion, 
attention  to  what  may  be  called  little  duties,  if  not 


396  Of  allowing  in  our  Minds  [pak^ 

always  urged  explicitly,  has  been  the  under-current  of 
our  thoughts  throughout.  Our  regular  daily  life  is  not 
marked  by  noticeable  incidents  or  great  crises ;  the 
fluctuations  of  interest  in  it  are  homely  and  trivial. 
It  is  of  this  average  common-place  life  that  we  have 
been  endeavouring  to  show  how  it  furnishes  all  the 
materials,  out  of  which,  under  God's  Grace,  sanctity 
may  be  wrought ;  and  it  is  therefore  quite  in  accord- 
ance with  the  genius  of  our  subject  to  consider  little 
duties,  little  sins,  little  trials,  little  self-denials,  little 
cares.  For  of  these  little  things  ordinary  life  is  made 
up ;  the  trials  of  our  normal  state  are  merely  annoy- 
ances, not  serious  trials  ;  its  sins  are  failures  of  temper, 
or  of  the  tongue,  or  omissions  of  devotion  ;  its  duties 
are  often  little  details  of  business,  or  little  acts  of  kind- 
ness, or  a  routine  of  correspondence  almost  mechanically 
performed ;  its  pleasures,  when  the  first  freshness  of 
youth  has  worn  ofi',  are  a  smile,  or  an  old  association, 
or  a  quiet  evening  at  home,  or  a  genial  meeting  with  a 
genial  friend;  its  cares  and  responsibilities,  though 
they  may  press  pretty  heavily  upon  ourselves,  are  such 
as  a  prime  minister  or  a  grand  vizier  would  think 
beneath  contempt.  If  Christian  principle  is  to  be 
shown  at  all  by  the  majority  of  men,  it  must  be  shown 
in  a  common-place  sphere  of  this  sort ;  and  it  is  exactly 
by  showing  it  on  these  common-place  occasions  that  "we 
shall,  under  God's  blessing,  and  by  His  grace,  brace 
ourselves  for  the  heavier  trials  and  more  arduous 
responsibilities,  which  He  may  see  fit  at  any  moment 
to  lay  upon  any  one  of  us.  What  a  dignity  does  it 
give  to  our  daily  life  to  remember  that  by  consistent 
quiet  maintenance  of  Christian  principle  on  these 
trivial  occasions,  we  may  lay  in  a  stock  of  oil,  in  other 
words,   nurse,   and   cherish,  and   educate   a   faith  and 


IV.]  a  Preponderance  to  Trifles,  ;.!>7 

lovo,  which  shall  burn  brightly  in  tho  hour  of  real 
t  rial !  Whereas  he  who  despises  tliesc  small  occasions, 
and  waits  for  a  grand  opportunity  to  exhibit  Cliristian 
principle,  as  one  waits  for  a  gala  night  to  let  off  ablazo 
of  fireworlvSj  is  certain  to  break  down  when  tho  stress 
of  trial  arrives.  And  it  is  because  wo  think,  as  I  have 
before  expressed,  that  the  pulpit  too  little  addresses 
it,«<elf  to  small  duties  and  homely  trials  ;  that  it  soars 
too  exclusively  among  doctrines  and  tho  principles  of 
conduct ;  that  it  speaks  too  exclusively  the  language  of 
Tragedy,  and  too  littlg  that  of  common  life,  that  we 
Iiave  been  anxious  to  press  homo  upon  our  readers,  in 
this  little  treatise,  the  cultivation  of  Personal  Religion 
in  that  sphere  which  lies  immediately  under  their  liands. 
And  now,  in  sounding  this  note  for  tho  last  time,  we 
still  feel  how  deeply  important  it  is  that  it  should  bo 
made  to  vibrate  long  and  loud  in.  the  memory  of  tho 
reader ;  how  it  is  almost  impossible  that  we  can  attach 
too  much  importance  to  such  particulars  of  duty  as  im- 
provement of  time,  control  of  temper,  watchfulness  in 
conversation,  restraint  of  appetite,  even  on  occasions 
where  it  might  innocently  be  indulged,  and  gentle  bear- 
ing of  disappointments. 

And  we  may  say  with  truth  that  duties  even  lower 
m  the  scale  than  these,  duties  not  moral  at  all,  or  not 
moral  in  their  primary  aspect,  have  yet  their  impor* 
tance,  and,  according  to  our  Lord's  admonition  in  tho 
text,  must  not  be  left  undone.  It  is  the  last  touches 
of  tho  pencil, — the  fine  finishing  strokes, — which  give 
to  a  drawing  its  completeness.  And  the  Christian, 
remembering  his  Lord's  words,  that "  whosoever  shall 
break  one  of  these  least  commandments  and  teach  men 
so,  the  same  shall  be  called  least  in  the  Kingdom  of 
Heaven,"  will   labour   to  give  to  his  obedience   this 


aOB  Of  allowing  hi  our  Minds  [part 

finish  and  completeness  by  not  neglecting  even  the 
finer  traits  of  duty.  He  will  eschew,  for  example,  in 
every  thing  that  pertains  to  God,  the  smallest  approach 
to  slovenliness.  Slovenliness  is  irreverence  in  little 
things ;  and  not  the  smallest  approach  to  irreverence 
will  the  Christian  tolerate.  Thus,  for  instance,  he  will 
pay  attention  to  postures  in  prayer,  whether  private,  or 
public.  If  Daniel  kneeled  upon  his  knees  in  his  cham- 
ber three  times  a  day  and  prayed  ;  if  St.  Paul  and  the 
Tyrian  Christians  kneeled  down  on  the  shore  to  pray ; 
if  our  Blessed  Lord  kneeled  when  offering  prayer  in 
the  garden ;  the  Christian  will  feel  that  neither  in  his 
closet  nor  in  the  house  of  God  is  he  at  liberty  to  adopt 
any  attitude,  which  betokens  indolence,  carelessness, 
or  levity.  And  of  another  kindred  point  he  will  be 
observant, — a  point  trifling  in  itself,  and  yet  having 
far  more  influence  upon  the  general  heartiness  and 
effect  of  Public  Worship  than  many  a  one  which  is 
intrinsically  more  important.  In  the  service  of  the 
House  of  God  he  will  join  audibly  in  the  prescribed 
responses,  not  contented  without  expressing  aloud  his 
assent  to  what  is  there  proceeding.  It  is  one  charac- 
teristic glory  of  the  Church  of  England,  distinguishing 
her  alike  from  Roman  and  schismatical  communions, 
that  the  public  prayers  which  she  prescribes  are 
really  common  prayers,  in  which  the  people  no  less 
than  the  minister  have  a  share  as  well  as  an  interest, — 
so  that  the  sacerdotal  character  of  all  Christians  is  re- 
cognized by  our  Liturgy,  inasmuch  as  all  are  directed 
on  occasions  to  join  in  it.  Every  right-minded  Church- 
man will  love  by  his  practice  to  bring  out  this  feature 
of  our  Prayer  Book,  and  will  feel  that  in  doing  so  he  is 
not  merely  complying  with  an  ecclesiastical  rule,  but 
ulso  doing  something  to  kindle  fervour  of  spirit  in  others 


I  > .  ]  a  Preponderance  to  Trifles.  399 

l.y  I  xprossinp  the.  fervour  of  his  own  spirit.  Be  it  re- 
moinborcd  of  all  tiiese  lessor  duties,  that  negligence  of 
thorn  is,  to  say  the  least,  an  extremely  bad  augury  of 
rulolity  in  higher  things ;  for  ho  who  is  careless  aboul 
the  little  items  of  obedience  is  usually  reckless  also 
:il>out  its  large  sums ;  and  our  Master  spoke  with  His 
usual  profound  insight  into  human  character,  when  He 
said  :  "  lie  that  is  faithful  in  that  which  is  least,  is  faith- 
ful also  in  much  ;  and  he  that  is  unjust  in  the  least,  is 
unjust  also  in  much." 

It  is  however  quite  possible  that,  through  the  morbid 
action  of  the  human  mind,  which  seems  to  corrupt  and 
deprave  every  good  principle  which  it  touches,  respect- 
ful attention  to  little  things  may  degenerate  into  a  punc- 
tiliousness and  a  wretched  scrupulosity  which  shall  drain 
off  the  energies  of  the  soul  from  the  larger  and  more 
spiritiral  duties  of  religion. 

This  was  the  case  of  the  Pharisees.  While  they 
paid  tithe  with  unfailing  accuracy  of  their  smallest 
garden  herbs,  they  did  not  seek  judgment,  or  relieve 
the  oppressed, — their  sentences  were  unrighteous,  their 
practices  extortionate,  and  their  hearts  insensible  to 
the  sufferings  of  others.  Men  bring  with  them  into 
religion  their  natural  character;  and  in  natural  cha- 
racter, as  in  religious,  you  will  find  two  extremes  in 
regard  to  little  things, — that  of  those  who  pay  too 
little  attention  to  them,  and  that  of  those  who  allow 
their  minds  to  be  wholly  taken  up  with  them.  On  the 
one  hand,  we  have  the  old  proverb  already  adverted  to, 
warning  those,  who  are  careless  of  small  items,  that 
they  may  sacrifice  thereby  large  sums ;  and  there  are 
notoriously  men  who  need  the  warning, — who  are 
quite  heedless  of  small  expenditures,  and  care  only  for 
considerable  amounts.     On  the  other  hand  there  is  to 


100  Of  allowing  in  our  Minds  [paki 

be  seen  every  day  this  very  common  phenomenon, 
persons  of  wealth,  who  will  stickle  and  haggle  at  every 
little  expense  incidental  to  daily  life,  and  yet  be  com- 
paratively careless  about  money  when  it  is  to  be  given 
on  a  large  scale  ;  miserly  in  small  things,  and  spend- 
thrifts in  great ;  their  whole  care  about  property  being 
apparently  that  it  shall  not  go  off  in  drops  and  driblets, 
though  for  the  great  drains  upon  it  they  are  not  solici- 
tous. These  opposite  habits  of  nind  are  imported  into 
religion.  Some  men's  religion  is  all  general,  and,  if 
I  may  say  so,  panoramic ;  they  love  large  views  of 
doctrine,  broad  principles  of  duty  ;  like  to  have  a  dis- 
tant spectacle  of  religion  opened  to  them  from  the 
pulpit,  but  do  not  much  relish  admonitions  on  the  mi- 
nute and  humble  duties  of  daily  life.  Such  are  not,  and 
cannot  be,  growing  Christians  ;  life  is  made  up  of  par- 
ticulars ;  and  with  the  particulars  these  men  will  not 
condescend  to  deal.  Some,  on  the  other  hand,  are  punc- 
tilious about  little  things,  and  forgetful  of  the  great 
spirit  of  the  law.  It  seems  as  if  the  account  to  be  given 
of  such  characters  was  as  follows ; — that  we  have  all 
only  a  certain  amount  of  conscientiousness,  and  that, 
if  this  be  all  expended  upon  the  more  ceremonial  artd 
formal  duties  of  religion,  we  have  none  left  for  its  great 
moral  claims.  Let  us  glance  at  one  or  two  of  the 
forms  in  which  this  Pharisaic  habit  of  mind,  so  strongly 
reprobated  by  our  Blessed  Eedeemer,  shows  itself  now- 
a-days. 

1.  The  late  revival  of  a  stricter  and  better  discipline 
in  the  Church,  and  of  a  more  reverent  feeling  towards 
ecclesiastical  antiquity  and  the  arrangements  of  our  own 
Book  of  Common  Prayer,  though  a  thing  to  be  very 
thankful  for  in  the  main,  has  given  rise  to  a  crop  of 
petty  discussions  on  points  purely  ritual  or  antiquarian, 


rv'.]  a  Preponderance  to  Tri/cs.  401 

wliich  may  c^isily  draw  oPC  tho  mind  from  subjects  of 
raver  import,  and  with  many  have  actually  that  cflfect. 
Wo  have  not  any  of  us  too  much  religious  zeal ;  it  is  a 
great  pity  to  spend  any  of  it  on  such  questions  as  the 
make  of  a  robe,  tlic  shape  of  a  chalice,  and  whether  one 
or  two  collects  should  bo  said  in  a  case  of  a  concur- 
rence of  Festivals.  Generally  speaking,  such  points 
arc  hardly  worth  tho  energy  spent  in  tho  discussion  of 
them.  If  indeed  they  are  regarded  simply  as  questions 
of  antiquarianism  or  good  taste,  let  them  be  left  to 
.:!itiquarians,  and  men  of  virtu.  And  if  it  can  bo 
U\irly  made  out  that  there  is  a  right  and  wrong,  or  even 
a  tasteful  and  untasteful  in  such  matters,  let  us  adopt 
ill  Public  Worship  the  right  and  the  tasteful  and  eschew 
tho  wrong  and  untasteful ;  but  let  not  such  matters, 
under  tho  insidious  pretence  of  bcing.jnatters  of  Re- 
ligion, occupy  any  space  whatever  in  our  minds.  In 
matters  of  Religion  we  want  all  our  available  space 
for  the  dear  Lord  who  has  bought  us  with  His  Blood, 
and  really  cannot  afford  any  lodging  for  rubrics,  how- 
ever ancient,  or  ornaments,  however  decorous.  Let  our 
Cliurches  be  all  fitted  up  in  a  style  suitable  to  tho 
wealth  of  the  district  in  which  they  stand  ;  and,  as  far 
as  possible,  to  the  majesty  of  Ilim,  whose  House  of 
Prayer  they  are ;  but,  that  being  done,  let  us  think 
no  more  about  the  building,  but  turn  our  whole  atten- 
tion to  the  living  stones,  ourselves  amongst  tho 
rest,  who  congregate  in  it.  Those  living  stones  will 
iitlast  the  fires  of  the  Judgment  Day.  Not  so 
le  pomp  of  our  architecture,  the  marble  shaft,  the  por- 
phyry column,  the  chiselled  capital.  On  all  these  is 
written  the  inexorable  sentence  of  God's  Word,  "  Tho 
Earth  also,  and  the  works  that  are  thereinf  shall  be 
burned  up," 


402  Of  allowing  in  our  Minds  [pakI 

2.  Persons  of  a  very  different  order  of  mind  from 
those  described  above  often  are,  in  their  way,  as  great 
sticklers  for  formalities.  There  is  no  such  mistake  as 
to  suppose  that  those  who  inveigh  against  forms  are 
themselves  free  from  the  power  of  them.  The  Quakers, 
who  discard  the  sacred  Forms  of  Jesus  Christ's  ap- 
pointment, are  themselves  the  most  formal  of  man- 
kind in  their  dress  and  in  their  language.  None  of  us 
are  free  from  the  influence  of  forms,  nor  can  we  be  so ; 
our  only  care  should  be  to  see  that  we  allow  not  our 
own  favourite  forms  to  degenerate  into  formality, 
which  they  will  begin  to  do  as  soon  as  ever  our  minds 
are  overmuch  occupied  with  them.  Catalogues  of 
forbidden  •  amusements,  or  precise  rules  as  to  the 
method  of  spending  Sunday,  are  to  some  people  what 
rubrics  and  church  ornaments  are  to  others ;  that  is, 
they  are  the  mint,  anise,  and  cummin,  which  take  up 
in  the  mind  the  space  due  to  the  weightier  matters  of 
the  law.  With  the  best  intentions,  (and  good  inten- 
tions are  always  worthy  of  respect,)  they  lay  down 
certain  regulations  as  safeguards,  in  their  own  case, 
against  the  sins  of  dissipation,  gossip,  vanity,  display, 
and  artificial  excitements  of  feeling : — restrictions 
most  excellent  and  helpful,  if  regarded  in  their  true 
light  as  forms  which  are  only  valuable  for  the  spirit 
which  they  enshrine,  and,  like  all  forms,  capable  of 
modification,  adjustment,  or  even  repeal,  as  circum- 
stances shall  dictate.  Too  often,  however,  it  seems  to 
be  assumed  that  so  long  as  the  form  is  secured  the 
spirit  is  certainly  safe,  a  fallacy  than  which  there  can 
be  none  more  patent.  Because  a  man  has  said  his 
prayers,  it  by  no  means  follows  that  he  has  prayed. 
A.nd  on  similar  principles,  because  a  man  has  conscien- 
tiously avoided  some  public  place  of  entertainment,  and 


I  a  Preponderance  to  Trifles,  403 

iifinod  liimsclf  to  the  society  of  what  is  called  a  fe>v 
religious  friends,  it  docs  not  follow  tliat  ho  has  escaped 
the  snare  of  dissipation  in  that  society,  still  less  that 
the  few  religious  frier.ds  have  bridled  tlicir  tongues  and 
avoided  all  tattle,  unreal  profession,  and  ccnsoriousncss. 
You  may  sin  by  rash  judgment  at  a  tea-table  as  freely 
as  in  the  gayest  and  most  brilliant  circle  which  can  be 
gathered  in  a  rich  metropolis-,  and  it  may  be  a 
question  whether  there  is  more  of  artificial  stimulant  to 
the  feelings  in  a  theatre  than  in  a  certain  class  of 
novels.  We  are  apt  to  smile  at  Romanists  on  fast- 
day,  when,  observing  an  abstinence  from  flesh,  they 
are  ready  to  gratify  the  appetite  with  every  other 
viand,  however  delicate  and  dainty ;  but  are  we  not 

irsclves  guilty  of  exactly  the  same  absurdity,  when- 
ever we  maintain  the  letter  of  a  restriction,  while  wo 
allow  its  spirit  to  evaporate?  Are  our  Sundays 
well  spent,  merely  because  they  are  quietly  spent, — 
because  we  have  given  as  little  trouble  as  possible  on 

at  day  (a  most  just  and  admirable  rule)  to  our 
(lopendents,  and  have  confined  our  reading  and  that  of 
our  children  to  sacred  books  1  Alas  !  these  restrictions 
arc  excellent ;  but  even  they  will  not  infallibly  secure 
tlic  right  observance  of  the  Lord's  Day.  Has  the  day 
1  een  a  delight  to  us, — a  real  refreshment  of  the  inner 
man?  Or  have  its  sacred  hours  brought  with  them  a 
sense  of  monotony  and  dulness,  which  has  led  us 
\  irtually  to  say  to  ourselves,  if  we  have  not  ventured 
to  put  the  thought  in  express  words, — ^**  When  will  the 
Sabbath  be  gone?"  If  so,  despite  of  all  outward 
formalities,  must  there  not  have  been  something  wrong 
somewhere  ? 

It  has  been  our  part  in   the  foregoing   pages  to 
suggest  to   the  reader  several  practices  of  devotion 


404  Of  allowing  in  our  Minds^  <&c.  [paut 

and  several  rules  of  life,  which,  under  God's  Blessing, 
and  if  used  with  discretion,  may  be  serviceable  to  him. 
And  we  cannot  more  appropriately  close  them  than  by 
reminding  him  that  even  rules  of  holy  living  may  be  a 
snare,  and  prove  burdensome  and  entangling  rather 
than  helpful,  if,  in  administering  them  to  ourselves,  we 
do  not  continually  keep  our  eye  fixed  on  the  spirit  and 
principle  of  them.  *'The  end  of  the  commandment  is 
Love,"  a  growing  and  ever  deepening  recognition  of 
God  as  our  tender  Father  through  Christ,  and  of  men 
as  our  brethren.  To  establish  this  filial  and  fraternal 
relation,  the  Lord  Jesus  came  into  the  world ;  and  to 
maintain,  and  extend,  and  consolidate  it.  His  Spirit  is 
now  abroad  in  the  hearts  of  His  people.  So  far  as 
rules  of  holy  living  help  to  form  in  our  minds  this 
view  of  God  and  our  neighbour,  they  are  estimable 
and  precious  ;  so  flir  as  they  neither  help  nor  hinder  it, 
they  are  useless  ;  so  far  as  they  obscure  and  perplex  it, 
they  are  positively  mischievous.  Let  our  whole 
question  in  Religion  be,  how  we  can  most  grow  in 
the  love  of  Christ  and  of  our  neighbour,  and  in  the 
perception  (closely  associated  with  this  love)  of  the 
importance  and  value  of  the  human  soul.  Let  us 
measure  that  soul  by  its  true  gauge,  by  its  likeness 
to  God,  in  respect  of  intrinsic  worth ;  by  Eternity,  in 
respect  of  its  duration  ;  and  by  the  Blood  of  Christ,  in 
respect  of  the  price  which  has  been  paid  for  it ;  and  we 
shall  then  have  no  mind  for  toys  and  trifles  in  religion. 
If  we  view  a  painted  scene  from  too  near  a  point, 
the  objects  represented  are  massed  together  inco- 
herently with  one  another,  and  the  eye  confounds 
the  distance  with  the  foreground.  But  retire  to  the 
proper  point  of  view,  and  all  things  fall  into  their 
places ;    the  distance  drops  back  and   seems   to  lie 


i\.]  Of  Improving  our  Talents.  405 

beyond  the  figures,  instead  of  towering  over  i\\e.\i 
lioad.  So  if,  in  our  survey  of  Religion,  we  forget  the 
two  cardinal  relations  of  man,  which  arc  its  principal 

.itures,  wo  shall  lose  the  perspective  of  the  picture 
altogether,  and  may  mistake  a  remote  point  for  an 
object  in  the  foreground.  But  let  us,  as  it  were,  fall 
back  ever  and  anon,  and  view  Religion  under  those 
grand  relations.  God,  Christ,  and  the  human  soul  will 
then  appear  as  the  very  front  and  centre  of  our  con- 
templations ;  and  every  other  object  will  be  scanned  in 
the  relative  proportions  which  it  bears  to  these  three 

hief  actors  on  the  scene. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

OP  IMPEOVINO  CUE  TALENTS. 

**  For  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  at  a  man  travelling  into  a  far 
countrtfy  vho  called  hi*  own  servants,  and  delivered  unto  t/ictn  his 
goods.  And  unto  one  he  gave  five  talents,  to  another  itpo,  and  to 
another  one  :  to  every  man  according  to  his  several  ability :  and 
straighttcay  took  his  journey. 

"  When  he  which  had  received  the  one  talent  earns  and  said,  Lord,  1 
knew  thee  thai  thou  art  an  hard  man,  reaping  where  thou  hast 
not  towttf  and  gathering  where  thou  hast  not  strawed  :  and  I  was 
afraid,  and  went  and  hid  thy  talent  in  the  earth:  lo,  ilicre  thou 
hast  that  is  thine.  His  lord  answered  and  said  unto  him,  Thou 
wicked  and  slothful  servant,  thou  knewest  tliat  I  reaped  where  J 
sowed  not,  and  gather  where  I  have  not  strawed:  thou  oughtest 
therefore  to  have  put  my  money  to  the  exchangers,  and  then  at  my 
coming  I  should  have  received  mine  ovm  with  usury. ^^ — Matt.  xxv. 
14,  15—24,  26,  26,  27. 

Two  parables  lie  side  by  side  in  Matt.  xxv.  which  are 
the  counterpoise  of  one  another.     The  false  deductions, 


406  Of  Improving  our  Talents,  [pARt 

which,  by  the  perversity  of  the  human  mind,  might  be 
drawn  from  either  of  them,  are  corrected  by  the  other. 
The  parable  of  the  Virgins,  which  we  shall  presently 
consider,  teaches  the  necessity  of  a  hidden  and  interior 
life,  (the  oil  being  concealed  in  the  lamp,)  and  that  no 
amount  of  outward  activity  in  the  service  of  God, — no 
display  of  gifts,  however  brilliant,  no  profession,  how- 
ever strict  and  high,  will,  without  such  an  interior  life, 
last  out  for  the  required  period.  Shall  the  Christian, 
then,  it  might  be  asked,  live  in  and  for  himself,  commu- 
ning with  God  in  his  own  heart,  and  allowing  the  outer 
world  to  go  its  own  way  and  take  care  of  itself,  as  if 
there  were  nothing  real  but  his  own  consciousness? 
Such  is  the  principle  of  the  monastic  life ;  and  it  is  a 
false  principle.  It  ignores  the  existence  of  a  neighbour, 
to  whom,  as  well  as  to  God,  we  have  duties ;  and  it 
ignores  the  gift,  by  which  God  qualifies  us  for  outward 
service  towards  his  cause  in  the  world.  To  correct  sucli 
misapprehensions,  the  Parable  of  the  Talents  follows 
close  upon  that  of  the  Virgins,  and  supplies  one  of  the 
many  instances  with  which  the  Gospels  abound,  of  the 
perfectness  of  our  Saviour's  discourses.  It  is  as  if  He 
had  said :  "  I  have  told  you  that  you  must  not  lose 
yourselves  in  the  activities  of  Eeligion ;  but  now  I  tell 
you,  with  equal  emphasis,  that  those  activities  must  not 
be  suffered  to  collapse.  Without  secret  Prayer,  you 
can  do  nothing ;  but  you  must  not  shut  yourself  up 
from  Service,  under  the  pretext  of  giving  yourself 
wholly  to  secret  Prayer." 

The  great  point  and  warning  of  this  Parable  lies  in 
the  history  of  the  slothful  servant;  and  it  is  his 
character,  therefore,  which  we  will  strive  to  bring 
before  ourselves  as  a  living  reality.  Let  us  ask  what 
sort  of  person  Our    Lord   in  the    first  instance   con- 


IV.]  Of  Improving  our  Talents, 

templatcd ;  and  then  we  shall  gain  a  clcai^^c 
the  Parable  may  bo  applied  to  our  own  cirhuitis^noea*' 
It  is  quite  possible  that,  even  now-a-day«^'ji&lfcn 
whom  God*8  Providence  had  really  called  to^  tlio 
ministry  of  the  Church,  and  more  or  less  qualified  for 
it,  might  shrink  from  undertaking  the  arduous  re- 
sponsibilities attaching  to  such  an  ofiicc.  The  thought 
of  the  account  which  must  bo  rendered  by  the  pastor 
of  the  souls  for  which  ho  watches,  might  terrify  him ; 
and  natural  indolence  might  conspire,  as  it  often  does, 
with  pusillanimous  fear,  to  make  him  decline  a  life 
which,  to  a  conscientious  Christian,  can,  less  than  any 
other  in  the  world,  be  a  sinecure.  A  man  in  this 
state*  of  mind  would  bo  very  likely  to  magnify,  or 
rather  to  aggravate  unduly,  the  obligations  laid  upon 
him,  and  to  represent  God  to  himself  as  a  hard  task- 
master, requiring  from  us  more  than  lie  gives  us 
strength  to  fulfil.  But  in  the  Early  Church,  when 
persons  viewed  the  work  of  the  ministry  less  as  a 
profession,  and  more  as  a  very  responsible  and  ex- 
tremely arduous  calling,  the  case  which  I  have  sup- 
posed to  occur  in  modern  times  was  of  constant 
occurrence.  It  was  no  unfrequent  thing  for  men,  who, 
by  the  general  suffrage  of  the  congregation,  were 
pronounced  to  bo  admirably  qualified  for  the  govern- 
mcnt  of  the  Church  and  the  Episcopal  Office,  to  run 
away  and  hide  themselves,  when  it  was  proposed  to 
confer  it  upon  them.  Discovered  in  their  hiding- 
place,  they  were  dragged  out,  and  consecrated  by 
constraint, — made  to  servo  God  and  their  neighbour  in 
the  onerous  and  honourable  position  of  a  Bishop 
against  their  wills.  Was  any  such  grudgingly-ren- 
dered service  in  the  thoughts  of  St.  Peter  when  he 
wrote  :    "  Food  the  flock  of  God  which  is  among  you, 


408  Of  Improving  our  Talents,  [paut 

taking  the  oversight  thereof,  not  hy  constraint^  but 
loillingly  ;  not  for  filthy  lucre,  but  of  a  ready  mind  ?  " 
At  all  events  it  is  in  the  highest  degree  probable,  if  not 
certain,  that  such  reluctance  was  often  manifested  in 
the  Apostolic  age,  when  the  emoluments  and  dignities 
of  the  Pastoral  Office  were  little  or  none,  and  when  it 
did  little  else  for  the  holders  of  it,  than  set  them  up  on 
high  as  a  mark  for  the  arrows  of  persecution.  Under 
such  circumstances  as  those,  one  can  quite  understand 
that  a  slothful  servant  of  the  Lord  would  be  disposed 
to  hide  his  talent  in  a  napkin,  and  to  use  with  his 
own  conscience  every  ingenious  and  plausible' argument, 
which  might  seem  to  excuse  such  a  course.  And  one 
argument,  which  would  readily  suggest  itself,  would  be, 
that  he  was,  after  all,  meanly  endowed  for  the  service 
of  the  Ministry  ;  and  that  but  one  talent — "  is  it  not," 
he  would  think,  "a  little  one?" — had  fallen  to  his 
share. 

And  here,  perhaps,  some  explanation  may  be  fitly 
introduced  of  a  clause  in  our  Parable,  which  causes  at 
first  a  little  difficulty  to  a  thoughtful  reader.  In  dis- 
tributing the  talents,  the  master  is  said  to  have  given 
"  to  every  man  according  to  his  ability. ^^  We  are  to 
understand  from  this,  probably,  that  the  spiritual  gifts 
of  the  early  Church,  of  which,  primarily.  Our  Lord  is 
speaking,  were  distributed  with  a  certain  reference  to 
what  we  should  call  the  natural  capacity  of  the  holders, 
— that  natural  capacity,  however,  being  itself  from  God. 
In  the  foremost  Apostles,  who  had  the. greatest  spi- 
ritual gifts, — in  Peter,  in  Paul,  in  John, — there  were 
remarkable  attributes  of  natural  character,  which  pre- 
sented a  nucleus,  if  I  may  use  the  expression,  for  those 
gifts.  They  were  all  men  of  strong  and  well-defined 
character,  and  would  no  doubt  have  been  men  of  mark 


i\.J  0/ Improving  our  Talents.  AO'J 

.,  ly    whi'iT,   iiulcpcndcir  .'i-n    t"    ihc 

Apostlcship.  Tliat  strcii^Lli  ul  ciuuaclcr  constituted 
their  ability  ;  and  their  giAs  were  the  talents  dealt  out 
to  them  "according  to  their  ability." — St.  Paul  was  a 
wonderfully  endowed  man,  even  in  respect  of  natural 
(jualifications  and  circumstances.  If  any  member  of  the 
Christian  Church  ever  had  great  ability,  it  was  he.  He 
liad  a  heart  comprehensive  enough  to  embrace  mankind, 
and  yet  full  of  an  ardent  patriotism.  His  affections 
were  diffuiivo  ;  and  yet  we  find  them  concentrated  with 
threat  pathos  upon  his  Corinthian  and  Philippian  con- 
\  orts,  upon  Timotheus,  his  own  son  in  the  faith,  upon 
Unesimus,  whom  he  had  begotten  in  his  bonds.  He 
was  AS  hard  as  adamant  to  all  the  toils  and  persecutions 
'  f  the  Apostleship,  "  ready,  not  to  be  bound  only,  but 
Mso  to  die  for  the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus  ;  "  and  yet 
lie  was  full  of  sensibility  to  others,  and  a  man  of  many 
tears.  As  regards  intellectual  einiowments,  he  was  a 
most  acute  reasoner ;  and  though  the  fervour  of  his 
beautiful  spirit,  which  always  kindled  with  his  great 
theme,  sometimes  is  allowed  to  interrupt  the  thread  of 
Ills  argument,  it  is  speedily  resumed,  and  prosecuted  to 
its  just  conclusion.  He  had  been  highly  educated,  and 
was  familiar  with  the  learning  and  poetry  of  the 
( Jentiles,  as  Moses  with  the  wisdom  of  the  Egyptians. 
In  oratory  he  had  that  happy  gift,  which  enabled  him 
to  take  his  audience  on  their  own  ground,to  accommodate 
himself  to  their  sympathies,  and  to  make  their  very 
prejudices  the  basis  of  his  appeal  to  tnem.  And  as  the 
crown  of  all  his  endowments,  he  had  that  courtesy  and 
grace  of  manner,  and  that  fineness  of  tact,  which  is 
partly  native  in  some  characters,  but  partly  the  result 
of  good  breeding,  and  a  generous  and  wise  discipline  in 
youth.  And  yet  this  courtesy  was  not  in  the  least 
1« 


410  Of  Improvirig  our  Talents.  [paiii 

degree  alloyed  with  afiectation,  and  consisted  with  the 
utmost  plainness  of  speech  towards  pretenders  and 
hypocrites.  In  these  features  of  moral  and  intellectual 
character  stood  the  ability  of  St.  Paul — itself,  be  it 
remarked,  like  all  natural  ability,  the  gift  of  Almighty 
God.  And  in  proportion  to  this  ability  he  was  richly 
dowered  with  spiritual  gifts,  and  held  ten  talents  of  the 
Master,  and  made  them  ten  talents  more.  His  Co- 
rintliian  converts  were  very  proud  of  their  gift  of 
speaking  with  tongues ;  "  but,"  says  St.  Paul,  "  I  thank 
my  God  /  speak  with  tongues  more  than  you  allP  He 
cast  out  a  spirit  of  Python  from  a  poor  crazed  girl,  the 
slave  and  tool  of  mercenary  masters.  He  shook  off 
from  his  hand  a  venomous  serpent  which  had  fastened 
there,  and  felt  no  harm.  Inspired  with  a  sudden 
memory  of  a  similar  act  done  by  the  prophet  Elijah,  he 
embraced  a  corpse  ;  and  the  corpse,  under  his  embrace, 
became  warm  with  life.  He  struck  a  sorcerer  with 
blindness.  He  restored  instantaneously  to  the  use  of 
his  limbs  one  who  had  been  a  cripple  from  his  mother's 
womb.  Nay,  even  a  handkerchief,  which  had  touched  his 
person,  chased  away  diseases  and  evil  spirits  from  those 
who  laboured  under  them  at  Ephesus. .  He  prophesied 
with  such  effect  that  profligates,  like  Felix,  trembled, 
and  could  not  endure  it ;  and  pious  women,  like  Lydia, 
seemed  to  find  in  his  words  the  dawn  of  a  new  light, 
and  the  inspirations  of  a  new  life.  He  was  familiar 
with  sacred  ecstacy  ;  and  was  caught  up  into  the  third 
heaven^  where  he  heard  unspeakable  words,  which  it  is 
not  lawful  for  a  raan  to  utter.  And,  finally,  "  he  being 
dead  yet  speaketh."  He  wrote,  under  Inspiration,  with 
such  power,  that  his  writings  have  been  from  the 
earliest  days  the  cordial  of  every  believer's  heart,  and  in 
the  sixteenth  century  became  the  alarum,  which  awoJve 


IV.]  Of  ImjiTovlng  onr  Talents.  411 

the  Church  out  of  the  Ictharpry  of  mcdioeval  formalism 
and  superstition.  And  still,  wherever  the  New  Tes- 
tament is  read,  his  perhaps  is  the  strongest  influence 
which  emanates  from  the  Holy  Book.  Such  were 
the  ten  talents  entrusted  to  the  great  Apostle  "  ac- 
cording to  his  ability." — By  his  side  was  another 
Apostle,  endowed  much  less  wonderfully, — ^having  per- 
chance only  one  talent  entrusted  to  him  ; — but  equally 
dear,  and  equally  faithful  to  their  common  Lord. 
St.  Barnabas  was  termed  by  his  colleagues  a  son  of 
Consolation.  He  was  qualified,  doubtless,  by  natural 
ability  to  console.  lie  was  deeply  attached  to  his 
relations  ; — a  soft  and  amiable  trait  of  character,  whicli 
sometimes,  however,  as  it  probably  did  in  his  caso, 
indisposes  us  to  listen  to  the  stem  voice  of  principle. 
lie  loved  to  promote  unity  between  those  who  had  a 
common  object  at  heart ;  and  h6  appears,  accordingly, 
as  the  peacemaker  between  Paul  and  the  original 
Apostles,  who  at  first,  from  his  antecedents,  felt  for  him 
some  amount  of  estrangement.  He  was  a  retiring  man ; 
and  liked  to  put  others  forward,  and  see  them  fillingthc 
post  for  which  God  had  qualified  them.  It  is  a  gentle, 
unobtrusive  character,  such  as  this,  which  has  a  capacity 
for  comforting;  and  according  to  Barnabas'  capacity, 
so  was  his  gift.  None  can  really  and  spiritually  comfort 
others,  however  naturally  qualified  for  it,  except  by  the 
gift  of  the  Comforter.     Then, 

"  Warm'd  underneath  the  Comforter's  safe  wing, 
They  spread  th*  endearing  wurmth  around : 

Mourners,  speed  here  your  broken  hearts  to  bring, 
Hero  healing  dews  and  balms  abound  : 

Here  are  soft  hands  that  cannot  bless  in  vain, 
By  trial  taught  your  pain : 

Here  loving  hearts,  that  daily  know 

The  heavenly  concolation  they  on  you  bestow.** 


412  Of  Improvin/j  our  Talents.  [rAEl 

The  Spirit,  then,  with  which  Barnabas  was  endowed 
became  in  him,  according  to  his  ability,  a  spirit  of  con- 
solation. It  might  seem  to  some  as  if  this  were  but  a 
humble  gift : — only  one  talent  out  of  the  many,  where- 
with the  chiefest  Apostles  were  endowed.  Suppose 
Barnabas  himself  had  thought  so,  and  reasoned  thus : 
"  I  am  not  myself  alone  fit  for  any  great  enterprise  ;  on 
such  an  enterprise  I  can  be  only  second :  all  I  am 
suited  for  is  to  whisper  a  word  of  encouragement  to 
better  men,  when  their  hearts  are  failing,  and  to  raise 
the  drooping  spirit  of  a  Christian  brother.  My  gift,  if 
gift  it  can  be  called,  is  a  quiet  one,  and  will  never  make 
any  stir  in  the  world."  And  suppose  that,  reasoning 
thus,  Barnabas  had  resolved  to  make  no  use  of  his 
talent,  because  it  was  a  little  one, — to  decline  all 
apostolic  journeys  and  enterprises,  on  the  plea  that  he 
could  be  but  of  little  use,  and  that  the  responsibilities 
of  an  Apostle  made  his  heart  quake  with  apprehension ; 
— his  would  then  have  been  exactly  the  case  of  the 
wicked  and  slothful  servant  in  the  Parable,  who  hid  his 
talent  in  the  earth,  instead  of  putting  it  out  to  the  ex 
changers,  because  he  falsely  reckoned  that  his  lord  was 
a  hard  taskmaster,  who  would  exact  a  return  for  which 
he  had  never  furnished  his  servants. 

What  has  been  said  paves  the  way  for  the  appli- 
cation of  the  parable  to  our  own  circumstances. 

The  counterpart  of  the  wicked  and  slothful  servant  is 
to  be  sought  among  persons  slenderly,  not  brilliantly, 
endowed.  It  is  comparatively  seldom  that  you  find  a 
man  of  splendid  gifts,  and  remarkable  powers  of  influ- 
ence, not  displaying  such  gifts,  or  putting  forth  such 
powers ;  for  vanity  is  a  strong  motive  force  in  the 
human  heart,  and  generally  urges  a  man  to  put  out  what 
there  is  in  him,  if  he  can  at  all  gain  credit  thereby. 


IV.]  Of  Improving  our  Talents,  113 

Whence  it  oomes  to  pass  that  thoso  men  who  stand  much 
al)ovo  the  heads  of  the  crowd  are  generally  not  charge- 
able with  indolcnco,  however  serious  may  bo  their  other 
faults.  But  when  we  are  entirely  on  a  level  with  the 
crowd  in  point  of  endowments,  then  the  temptations 
to  bury  our  talent  in  the  earth  arise  in  their  full  force. 
And  this  must  always  be  the  case  of  the  many.  TIio 
majority  of  men,  (at  least  in  countries  where  civiliza- 
tion has  long  prevailed,  and  the  system  of  Society  has 
lonij  been  running  in  a  regular  groove,)  will  always  bo 
mediocre, — mediocre  in  intelligence,  in  information,  in 
jiosition,  in  fortune,  in  strength  of  character,  in  short, 
ill  all  those  points  which  qualify  us  for  usefulness  to 
others.  And  the  consciousness  that  they  are  so,  will 
ill  ways  be  a  plea  with  such  persons  for  being  nothing 
and  doing  nothing,  for  hanging  about  indolently  upon 
life,  without  any  special  aim,  and  therefore  without  any 
special  energy.  There  are  many  elements  of  feeling 
which  lead  to  this  result.  Vanity  here,  as  elsewhere,  is 
on  the  alert ;  if  we  cannot  be  in  the  foremost  rank,  wo 
Mill  be  nothing.  Indolence  is  the  next  trait;  a  very 
subtle  sin,  as  well  as  an  extensively  prevalent  one,  hid- 
ing itself  often  under  the  garb  of  modesty,  and  some- 
times under  the  still  more  specious  garb  of  love  for  a 
devout,  studious,  and  contemplative  life.  Then,  also, 
there  is  a  cowardly  shrinking  from  being  push(;d  to 
greater  lengths  in  Religion  than  we  are  prepared  to  go ; 
a  dread  that,  if  we  once  put  ourselves  by  our  own  act 
into  the  harness  of  responsibility,  we  shall  be  driven 
to  a  greater  distance  than  we  bargained  for.  Then,  last, 
comes  the  wickedness  which,  together  with  the  indo 
lencc,  the  master  in  the  Parable  stigmatizes, — the  un- 
grateful, unfilial,  impious  aspersion  of  God,  as  one  who 
requires  from  us  more  than  He  furnishes  us  for.    And 


414  Of  Improving  our  Talents.  fpAUT 

so  it  comes  to  pass  that  we  have  a  vast  number  of  pro- 
fessing Christians,  church-goers  and  communicants,— 
men  perfectly  blameless  as  far  as  moral  character  and 
fair  reputation  goes, — who  have  never  even  seriously 
inquired  what  the  one  talent  entrusted  to  them  may  be, 
much  less  whether  they  are  putting  it  out  to  interest, 
and  securing  a  return  from  it. 

Reader,  if  this  most  important  question  has  never 
yet  been  asked,  let  it  form  the  subject  of  your  next 
Self  examination.  Rest  assured  of  this,  that  one  talent 
}ou  have,  if  not  many,  however  deep  it  may  h^jve  been 
buried  by  your  thoughtlessness  and  indolence,  however 
much,  by  long  want  of  use  and  currency,  it  may  ha^  e 
gathered  a  rust  which  has  eaten  away  the  metal.  What 
is  it  ?  Is  there  any  one  to  whom  you  may  be  useful  in 
the  way  of  influence,  and  who  is  continually  thrown 
across  you,  but  for  whose  good  you  have  never  yet  made 
a  single  effort  ?  Are  you  surrendering  for  objects  of 
Religion  and  Charity  such  a  proportion  of  your  worldly 
goods,  as  a  conscience,  enlightened  by  God's  Word  and 
Spirit,  dictates?  Have  you  any,  and  what  mental 
endowments  1  And  if  so,  are  you  cultivating  them 
with  an  ultimate  view,  though  it  may  be  a  distant  one, 
to  the  Service  and  Glory  of  God?  All  advance  of 
human  knowledge  is  good  and  acceptable,  if  the  Father 
of  lights  have  the  glory  of  it,  but  contemptible,  nay, 
mischievous,  if  it  terminates  upon  the  gratification  of 
curiosity  or  of  intellectual  pride.  Have  you  any  leisure 
hours  ?  and  if  so,  are  they  turned  to  good  account  ?  A 
little  time  spent  upon  benevolent  objects  may  be  of 
more  avail  in  promoting  them  than  much  money.  Do 
we  ever  spend  our  spare  time  so  ?  Does  your  position 
and  state  of  life  give  you  any  opportunity  of  usefulnesis 
to  others  ?     And  if  so,  do  you  avail  yourself  of  such 


i\.]  0/ Improving  our  Talents.  415 

opportunity  t  If  you  can  do  nothing  else  for  your  fol- 
low-men,  may  you  not  perhaps  console  them  by  your 
l>rc8cnco  with  them,  and  by  the  mere  common-place  in- 
limation  of  your  sympathy  1  May  you  not  say  a  word  of 
indiiess  or  encouragement,  or  bring  together  estranged 
I !  lends,  or  persuade  able  men  to  the  <5burso  to  which 
God  seems  to  bo  calling  them  1  The  trumpeter  who 
-tirs  the  spirit  of  the  troops  by  a  well-timed  blast,  con- 
:  ibutes  almost  as  much  to  the  victory  as  those  whom 
he  animates. 

Generally,  in  what  direction  is  your  natural  ability 
(itself  God's  gift)  pointing  youl  .Look  narrowly  in 
that  direction,  and  you  shall  soon  see  the  talent  with 
which  God  has  furnished  you.  Having  discovered  it, 
you  arc  to  increase  by  putting  it  out  to  interest.  The 
question  must  be,  not  simply  how  you  may  use  it,  but 
how  you  may  use  it  in  the  most  profitable  manner  in 
which  it  is  capable  of  being  used.  Without  being  too 
ambitious-— ambitious  (to  pursue  our  Lord's  own  figure 
a  little  more  into  detail)  of  a  higher  interest  than  can 
be  had  with  security — how  may  the  money  bo  made  to 
fructify  most  largely  ?  If  there  are  two  good  uses  which 
may  be  made  of  leisure  hours,  of  superfluous  money 
and  redundant  luxuries,  of  natural  parts,  which  of  those 
t  wo  good  uses  is  the  best  ?  That  is  generally  speaking 
ilie  best,  which  has  the  nearest  reference  to  the  spiritual 
interests  of  men,  which  most  immediately  subserves  the 
Ctx>d  of  souls.  This  is  God's  end  of  ends,  and  this  thero- 
t'ore  should  be  ours. 

Remark,  finally,  how  hard  thoughts  of  God,  such  as 
tlie  slothful  servant  entertained,  lie  at  the  root  of  all 
imfruitfulness  in  Religion.  No  soul  was  ever  yet,  or 
ever  will  be,  generous  in  its  dealings  with  God,  which 
has  not  first  formed  a  large  estimate  of  God's  generosity. 


416  Of  Improving  our  Talents.  [pari 

We  must  perforce  be  niggards  towards  Him,  so  long  as 
we  think  Him  a  niggard  either  of  pardon  or  grace.  O 
for  a  juster  conception  of  the  intensity  of  His  love  and 
tenderness  for  us,  of  His  unspeakable  willingness  to  give 
us  day  by  day,  and  hour  by  hour,  all  things  which  are 
requisite  for  t\\t  spiritual  life  ! 

If  we  have  ever  so  little  sincere  desire  to  serve  Him 
and  to  be  His,  is  it  not  absolutely  certain,  from  the 
whole  tenour  of  His  words  and  deeds,  that  He  will  meet 
us  more  than  half-way,  and  bring  us  on  in  the  right 
path  with  more  than  a  mother's  tenderness?  He 
l-equires  from  us  a  very  arduous  standard  of  sentiment 
and-  duty  ; — granted.  We  have  not  for  a  moment  io 
the  course  of  these  Lectures  blinked  its  arduousness  ; 
rather,  we  have  striven  to  cry  aloud  in  the  ears  of 
all  hearers  "  Excelsior  !  "  But  does  He  demand  any 
thing  which  He  is  not  ready  out  of  His  Son's  fulness  to 
supply  ?  Is  He  a  Pharaoh,  who,  while  He  requires  us 
to  build  a  Pyramid,  bids  us  go  get  straw  'where  we  can 
find  it  ?  Avaunt  the  wicked  and  derogatory  thought ! 
For  every  responsibility  which  we  have  to  meet.  He 
offers  to  qualify  us.  For  every  height  which  we  have 
to  climb,  He  furnishes  an  inward  strength.  So  that, 
whatever  be  our  faithless  forecastings  before  we  fairly 
come  up  with  our  burdens,  it  is  extremely  questionable 
whether,  while  we  are  bearing  them,  the  heavier  seems 
more  oppressive  than  the  lighter.  For  the  feeling  of  a 
burden's  oppressiveness  must  of  course  be  proportioned 
to  our  strength.  And  if  with  a  double  burden  the  Lord 
supplies  a  double  strength,  it  is  exactly  the  same  to  our 
experience  as  if  with  half  the  burden  He  left  us  half  the 
strength.  Isaac  leads  a  quiet  life ;  and  it  is  not 
recorded  that  any  great  revelation  was  made  to  him. 
Jacob  is  tossed  with  troubles,  and  in  the  midst  of  them, 


IV.]  0/ Improving  OK y  417 

lic  dreams  of  tho  great  bright  ladder,  which  spanned 
the  distaneo  between  heaven  and  earth,  and  shadowed 
forth  tho  one  Mediator  between  God  and  men, — tho 
man  Christ  Jesus.  The  same  is  the  law  of  tho  Chris- 
tian's life;  an  easy  pilgrimage,  and  no  extraordinary 
support ;  a  tempest-tost  earcer,  and  a  strong  consolation. 
Wo  need  not  faint  then  at  any  prospect  before  us.  Pro- 
gress in  grace  may  bo  arduous,  diflicult,  impossible  to 
flesh  and  blood, — out  of  tho  question,  it  may  be  said, 
while  living  in  tho  old  world  ;  but  to  all  alleged  dilli- 
culties  there  is  one  simple  answer,  "  He  Giveth  more 
GRACE.*'  iTio  cruso  of  Gracxs  abounds,  like  the  widow 
of  Sarepta's  cruse,  in  time  of  dearth.  And  so  we  will 
marcli  bravely  onwards,  assured  that,  if  tho  last  failure 
of  all  should  begin  to  overtake  us,  there  will  be  a  pro 
portionally  large  inflowing  from  that  cruse  into  tho 
inner  man. 

'*  My  flesh  and  my  heart  failcth ;  but  God  is  the 
strength  of  my  heart,  and  my  portion  for  ever."  "  For 
which  cause  wo  faint  not;  but  though  our  outward 
man  perish,  yet  the  inward  man  is  renewed  day  by 
day." 


41a  (.  f  the  Interior  Life.  [rABT 


CHAPTER  XII. 

OF  THE  INTEKIOE  LIFE. 

"  Then  shall  the  kingdom  of  heaven  he  likened  unto  ten  virgins^ 
which  took  their  lamps,  and  went  forth  to  meet  the  hfidegroom. 
And  five  of  tJiem  were  wise,  and  five  were  foolish.  They  thai 
■were  foolish  took  their  lamps,  and  took  no  oil  with  them :  but  the 
aise  took  oil  in  their  vessels  wijh  their  lamps.  While  the  bride- 
groom  tarried,  they  all  slumbered  and  slept.  And  at  midnight 
Uicre  was  a  cry  made,  Behold,  the  bridegroom  cometh  :  go  ye  out 
«>  meet  him.  Then  all  those  virgins  arose,  and  trim,mcd  their 
lamps.  And  the  foolish  said  unto  the  wise,  Give  us  of  your 
oil :  for  our  lamps  are  gone  out.  But  the  wise  answered  saying, 
Not  so :  lest  there  be  not  enough  for  us  and  you :  but  go  ye  rather 
to  them  that  sell,  and  buy  for  yourselves.  And  while  they  went 
to  buy,  the  bridegroom  came :  and  they  that  were  ready  went  in 
with  him  to  the  marriage :  and  the  door  was  shut.  Afterwards 
oame  also  the  other  virgins,  saying.  Lord,  Lord,  open  to  us.  Bu^ 
he  answered  and  said.  Verily  I  say  unto  you,  I  know  you  not. 
Watch  therefore  for  ye  know  neither  the  day  nor  the  hour  wherein 
the  Son  of  man  cometh.'''' — Matt.  xxv.  1 — 13. 

In  music,  the  key-note,  which  rules  the  strain,  also 
closes  it.  It  should  be  the  same  with  compositions. 
Every  discourse,  every  systematic  series  of  discourses, 
should,  after  running  its  round  through  a  variety  of 
propositions  and  illustrations,  at  length  return  to  the 
chord  originally  struck,  or,  in  other  words,  gather  itself 
up  again  into  its  fundamental  idea.  We  will  endeavour 
to  give  our  Thoughts  on  Personal  Religion  this  com- 
pleteness, by  setting  before  the  reader,  in  rather  a 
different  aspect,  at  their  close,  the  thoughts  which  origi- 
nally gave  rise  to  them. 

The  24th  and  25th  chapters  of  St.  Matthew  form 
but   one   Prophetic   Discourse,   (grievously  disjointed 


IV.  J  Of  tlii  Life.  ;  1  ' 

1)/  tho  division  into  Chapters  to  the  great  prcjudioo  of 
tlio  sense,)  whicli  may  bo  called  tho  Prophecy  on  tlio 
Mount ;  and  which  corresponds  to  the  great  Preceptive 
Discourse  of  Christ,  called  tho  Sermon  oh  the  Mount, 
which  is  to  be  found  in  tho  fifth  and  two  following 
chapters  of  tho  same  Gospel.  Tliis  Prophecy  was 
delivered  at  a  most  solemn  period  of  our  Lord's  career. 
He  had  closed  His  public  Ministry  amongst 'that  "  evil 
and  adulterous  generation,"  with  eight  solemn  woe^ 
denounced  in  wrath  against  them, — but  a  wrath  chas- 
tened, toned  down,  beautified  with  all  tho  tenderness  of 
that  parting  plaint ;  "  O  Jerusalem,  Jerusalem,  thou 
that  killest  tho  prophets,  and  stonest  them  which  aro 
sent  unto  thee,  how  often  would  I  have  gathered  thy 
children  together,  even  as  a  hen  gathereth  her  chickens 
under  her  wings,  and  ye  would  not !  "  Then,  calling  it 
tluir  house,  to  show  that  it  was  no  longer  God's,  Ho 
suits  the  action  to  the  word,  and  passes  out  of  the 
Temple,  as  He  utters  that  sentence :  "  Behold,  your 
house  is  left  unto  you  desolate."  He  then  ascends  the 
Blount  of  Olives,  from  thence  to  take  a  parting  view  of 
the  City  and  Temple,  and,  sitting  there,  pronounces  the 
Prophecy  which  is  before  us ;  and  which,  springing  from 
summit  to  summit  in  the  long  perspective  of  the  future, 
carries  us  down  to  that  division  of  tho  sheep  from  the 
goats,  which  will  form  the  concluding  scene  of  Human 
History.  Our  Blessed  Lord  had  always  loved  to  teach 
by  Parables ;  and  He  continues  this  method  in  the  dis- 
course before  us.  The  ancient  Greek  dramatists  used  to 
mass  together  four  dramatic  pieces  in  one  series,  called 
a  tetralogy, — each  piece  being  oft«n  connected  with  the 
furegouig,  and  presenting  a  fresh  development  of  the 
fortunes  of  some  royal  house.  Our  Blessed  Lord  here 
utters,   at  the  close  of  His  Prophecy,  a  tetralogy  of 


420  Of  the  Interior  Life.  [part 

Parables,  that  of  the  evil  servant  in  authority,  that  of 
the  ten  virgins,  that  of  the  talents,  and  that  of  tho 
separation  between  the  sheep  and  the  goats, — all  repre- 
senting the  awful  crisis  of  judgment,  as  it  will  be  grad- 
ually unfolded, — ^judgment  beginning  with  the  house  of 
God  or  Christian  Church, — taking  effect,  first,  upon  "  the 
ministers  and  stewards  of  God's  mysteries,"  wbo 
are  the  servants  in  authority,  next  upon  Christians 
considered  in  regard  of  the  interior  and  spiritual  life,who 
are  the  virgins ;  next  upon  Christians  considered  in  regard 
of  their  exterior  life  in  God's  Service,  who  are  the  ser- 
vants entrusted  with  the  talents ;  and,  finally,  passing 
on  to  the  non-Christian  -world,  all  "  the  nations,"  or  Gen- 
tiles, who  shall  be  judged  by  the  only  law  which  they 
have  had, — the  law  of  kindness  to  fellow-men,  which  i^j 
written  on  the  human  heart. 

The  connexion  in  which  this  Parable  of  the  Virgin 
occurs  having  thus  been  exhibited,  we  will  now  point 
out  the  chief  lessons  which  it  conveys. 

The  persons  here  warned,  then,  are  those  who  have 
received  genuine  religious  impressions,  and  have  cor- 
responded with  fervour  to  the  grace  originally  bestowed 
upon  them.  Such  were  the  majority  of  Christians,  in 
the  times  when  the  Gospel  was  first  preached  with  the 
Holy  Ghost  sent  down  from  Heaven.  All  were  then 
earnest  in  some  measure ;  for  the  mere  profession  of 
Christianity  carried  with  it  persecution,  and  so  involved 
a  test  of  sincerity, — all  were  animated  in  some  degree 
not  by  faith  only,  but  by  zeal  and  love.  A  flame  of 
joyful  hope  and  earnest  aspiration  was  kindled  upon 
every  heart, — the  flame  this  of  the  lamp  of  the  virgins. 
The  question  was,  of  course,  how  long  such, a  state  of 
mind  would  hold  out, — how  long  such  a  flame  would 
burn.     An  expectation  prevailed  among  the  members 


(v]  Of  the  Inter  i  1-1 

of  tho  Early  Church,  and  even  the  Apostles  seem  to 
have  been  more  or  less  partakers  of  it,  that  tho  flame 
would  not  haVo  to  burn  very  long.  From  such 
expressions  as,  "  We  which  are  alive,  and  remain  unto 
tho  comins?  of  the  Ix)rd ; "  "  Tho  Judge  standcth 
before  tho  door;"  "Little  children,  it  is  tho  last 
time;  **  "  Yet  a  little  while,  and  ho  that  shall  come  will 
come,  and  will  not  tarry  ;  "  "  This  same  Jesus,  which  is 
taken  up  from  you  into  heaven,  shall  so  come  in  like 
manner  as  ye  have  seen  him  go  into  hcAven,"  they  had 
gathered,  not  unnaturally,  tho  impression  that  "  the 
day  of  Christ  was  at  hand."  The  Bridegroom  would 
soon  return  to  bring  them  in  from  the  cold  outlying 
stations  of  the  world  to  the  joyous  light  and  genial 
warmth  of  the  Wedding  Festival ; — the  Lord  Jesus 
would  come  again,  as  lie  had  promised,  and  receive 
His  own  unto  Himself.  But  if  He  tarried,  as  wo 
know  that  eventually  Ho  did,  what  then  ?  Why,  this 
tarrying  would  give  great  scope  for  discrimination  of 
character.  It  would  show  clearly  who  could,  and 
who  could  not,  persevere  in  His  absence.  Hitherto 
religion  had  been  very  much  a  matter  of  impression 
with  Christians ;  Heaven  had  seemed,  at  their  con 
version,  to  open  to  them  all  its  treasures ;  the  Holy 
Spirit  had  seemed,  when  their  Baptism  was  consum- 
mated by  imposition  of  hands,  to  descend  upon  them, 
if  not  in  tho  likeness  of  fiery  tongues,  yet  in  a  flame  of 
zeal  and  love.  But  this  tarrying  of  the  Bridegroom 
would  considerably  alter  the  aspect  of  religion  ; — would 
reduce  it  from  a  matter  of  impression  to  a  matter  of 
principle.  It  was  easy  enough  to  kindle  into  faith,  and 
hope,  and  love,  when  the  fervid  eloquence  of  Apostles 
broke  upon  their  ear,  and  tho  elevating  example  of 
Apostles  was  under  their  eye^ ;  but  whon  tlifir  K^f^s- 


422  Of  the  Liter  lor  Life.  [part: 

tie  left  them  to  visit  other  regions,  when  he  died 
in  cruel  torments,  witnessing  of  his  Lord,  and  the 
tidings  reached  them  of  his  death ;  and  yet  the  Bride- 
groom gave  no  signal,  and  they  were  left  still  exposed 
to  all  the  inclemency  and  dangers  of  the  dark  night, 
the  faith,  and  hope,  and  love,  then  began  to  burn  a 
little  low  in  the  sogket.  And  then  would  come  out 
the  distinction  of  character  between  Christian  and  Chris- 
tian. Passive  impressions  are  designed  to  be  the  foun- 
dation of  active  habits,  and  some  would  try  to  make 
them  so.  Others  would  allow  their  impressions  to  col- 
lapse, without  providing  for  the  renewal  of  them.  In- 
stead of  regarding  them  as  something  to  begin  and  go 
on  upon,  they  would  let  them  terminate  on  themselves, 
and  wear  out,  as  it  were,  their  stock  of  grace,  before 
the  day  of  reckoning  came,  without  an  attempt  to  re- 
plenish it. 

And  are  there  no  Christians,  now-a-days,  of  exactly 
the  same  order  %  None  who  remain  satisfied  with  the 
stock  of  grace  which  they  received,  when  they  were 
first  brought  under  religious  impression  %  Oh,  how 
brightly  would  their  light  have  been  found  shining,  had 
they  been  called  away  by  death,  or,  in  other  words,  had 
the  Bridegroom  come  to  them,  when  the  first  fervour 
of  those  impressions  was  upon  them  !  How  zealous 
were  they  then !  how  strict  were  their  lives !  how 
faithful  was  their  protest  against  the  world,  and  its 
corrupt  works  and  ways  !  They  even  talked  of  being 
assured  of  their  own  salvation,  not  at  all  ostentatiously 
or  boastfully,  but  merely  because  in  those  days  God's 
Spirit  did  so  powerfully  bear  witness  with  their  spirits 
that  they  were  the  children  of  God.  But  alas  !  their 
original  impressions  were  not  secured,  and  (if  I  may  so 
say)  stereotyped  by  activity  in  the  interior  life  of  faith. 


IV. J  Of  Uie  Interior  Life.  423 

Tlioy  did  not  make  tbo  rcsistanco  of  bosom  sins,  and 
the  formation  of  the  mind  of  Christ  within  them,  their 
ono  study  and  pursuit.  The  indolent^  evil  thought 
would  still  insinuato  itself,  until  it  leavened  tlieir  entire 
character:  "I  have  been  religious  once;  the  oil  of 
grace  was  poured  into  the  vessel  of  my  heart ;  and  I 
can  quite  aflbrd  to  go  on  upon  my  old  stock."  Un- 
liappily  tlio  ministry  of  God's  Word,  as  it  has  been 
irried  on  in  the  Church  of  England  for  the  lost 
luilf-ccntury,  tended  to  foster  this  miserable  delusion. 
Almost  all  the  good  preaching  was  directed  to  awaken 
the  conscience,  not  to  guide  it;  to  make  lively  iinprcs- 
.sions,  not  to  render  them  permanent.  If  men  went 
away  from  the  sermon  pricked  to  the  heart,  with  the 
arrow  of  conviction  rankling  in  their  conscience,  im- 
pressed once  for  all  with  the  value  of  the  soul,  the 
danger  of  sin,  the  preciousness  of  Christ,^  that  was 
all  which,  for  the  most  part,  either  preacher  or  hearers 
looked  for;  the  next  Sunday  it  was  sought  to  do  the 
same  work  over  again  upon  fresh  minds.  There  being 
unhappily  little  or  no  intercourse  on  spiritual  subjects 
between  the  minister  ahd  the  people,  there  was  nothing 
but  his  own  religious  experience  to  force  upon  his 
notice  the  fact  that  the  human  conscience,  after  being 
quickened,  urgently  needs  direction,  or,  in  other  words, 
that  Christians  need  gradual  edification,  as  well  as  that 
primary  work  upon  the  heart,  by  which  they  are  turned 
from  darkness  to  light,  and  from  the  power  of  Satan 
unto  God.  And,  accordingly,  it  came  to  be  regarded 
as  the  whole  business  of  the  ministry  to  impress ;  and 
the  pulpit  being  unquestionably  the  great  means  of 
doing  this,  public  prayers  and  Sacraments  (the  means 
of  edification  rather  than  conversion)  were,  to  the 
great  detriment   of   true   religion,    postponed   to    the 


424  Of  the  Interior  Life.    .  [paut 

pulpit ;  and  the  hearer,  havhig  been  worked  up  to  a 
certahi  state  of  feelhig  on  elementary  religious  truths, 
(reiterated  oftentimes  every  Sunday,  whatever  might 
be  the  text,)  was  thenceforth  left  to  fare  for  himself. 
If  he  had  made  a  genuine  earnest  commencement  in 
religion,  if  he  had  lit  his  lamp  of  Christian  profession 
with  the  oil  of  Divine  grace,  that  was  enough  ;  no 
pains  was  talvcn  to  have  a  reserve  of  oil  in  the  oil- 
vessel. 

We  shall  further  expand  the  lesson  of  the  Parable,  if 
we  look  somewhat  more  deeply  into  the  emblerns  of  the 
light  and  the  oil,  and  consider  the  relation  which  exists 
between  them.  Observe,  then,  that  the  flame  of  a 
lamp  is  continually  burning  away  the  oil.  Also,  that 
the  flame  is  visible  ;  and  the  oil  hidden  in  the  vessel. 
The  oil,  according  to  an  emblem  very  usual  in  Scrip- 
ture, signifies  the  Holy  Spirit,  or  divine  grace  in  the 
inner  man  of  the  heart.  The  light,  or  flame  of  the 
lamp,  shall  take  its  interpretation  from  our  Lord's  own 
words  ;  **  Let  your  light  so  shine  before  men,  that  they 
may  see  your  good  works,  and  glorify  your  Father 
which  is  in  heaven," — a  reference  which  gives  consid- 
erable insight  into  the  consistency  of  Scripture  with 
Scripture.  The  flame  is,  in  the  broadest  sense  of  those 
words,  that  confession  of  Christ  before  men  which  is 
the  external  condition  of  salvation, — the  confession 
which  is  made  for  each  of  us  by  our  representatives  in 
Baptism,  renewed  in  our  own  persons  at  Confirmation, 
virtually  repeated  whenever  we  join  in  an  act  of 
Christian  worship,  repeated  more  emphatically  still 
whenever  we  receive  the  Holy  Communion.  But  the 
burning  of  the  flame  implies  something  more  than  the 
mere  nominal  profession,  which,  under  the  present 
condition  of  things,  all  Christians  make.     When   oui 


iv.J  0/ the  Interior  425 

Lurd  bids  us  lot  our  light  shino  before  men,  Ho 
means  something  much  more  thjm  this  merely  nominal 
profession.  lie  expresses  the  entire  example  of  Iho 
Christian  life,  given  both  by  its  external  activities, 
and  by  its  quiet  influence.  The  kind  actions,  the 
benevolent  philanthropic  schemes,  the  usefulness  to 
others,  whether  below  us  or  around  us, — all  these 
are  parts  of  the  flame;  in  proportion  as  these  arc 
prominent  in  any  man's  life,  the  flame  of  his  lamp 
burns  brightly.  But  note,  now,  that  it  is  in  the 
nature  of  flame  to  bum  atoat/  the  oil  by  which  it  is  fed. 
Christians,  if  you  have  spent  a  busy  day  in  God's 
Service  and  in  works  of  love, — if  you  have  stood  in 
the  breach,  and  made  a  manful  protest  against  worldly 
sentiments,  practices,  maxims, — if  you  have  run  hither 
and  thither  on  the  errand  of  mercy  to  the  poor,  the 
sick,  the  dying, — if  your  hands  have  been  busy  on 
some  work  whereby  the  truth  of  God  may  be  main- 
tained, and  His  glory  and  the  interests  of  His  Church 
subserved  ;  this  is  all  good,  so  far  as  it  goes,  and  a 
subject  of  devout  thankfulness ;  but  still  it  is  external 
work,  and  as  being  external,  it  necessarily  makes  a 
demand  upon,  and  consumes  the  powers  of,  the  inner 
life.  It  is  all  an  outgoing  of  oil ;  and,  if  there  be  no 
incomings  thereof,  the  flame  will  not  burn  long. 
This  good  work,  this  kind  word  of  admonition,  this  act 
of  beneficence,  takes  up  so  much  grace, — so  much 
grace  spends  itself  in  the  production  of  it;  and, 
accordingly,  when  it  has  been  produced,  more  grace 
will  be  wanted.  Now  the  question  is,  are  you  taking 
measures  to  have  morel  And  this  question  carries  us 
beyond  the  external  life  altogether  into  the  hidden 
man  of  the  heart, — it  leads  us  away  from  the  flame 
into  the  oil-vessels.     "  Your  life,"  says  St.  Paul  (i.  e. 


426  Of  the  Ititcrior  Life.  [pakt 

the  springs  and  sources  of  it),  "  is  hid  with  Christ  in 
God."  What  of  this  hidden  life  ?  How  is  it  thriving  % 
"  When  Christ,  who  is  our  life,  shall  appear,"  will  this 
hidden  life,  which  you  have  been  leading,  leap  to  light, 
and  be  made  abundantly  manifest  ?  Would  you  know 
what  is  the  method  of  nourishing  the  springs  of  this 
hidden  life, — of  securing  a  reserve  of  oil  %  One  w^ord, 
understood  in  a  broad  and  spiritual  sense,  represents 
the  entire  method, — Prayer.  Man  of  profession,  are 
you  a  man  of  prayer  ?  Man  of  work,  are  you  a  man  of 
prayer  1  Man  of  activity,  are  you  a  man  of  prayer  ? 
If  your  light  is  Shining  before  men,  are  you  giving  all 
diligence  to  have  a  supply  of  oil  that  you  may  keep  it 
so? 

And  yet,  because  of  the  sad  tendency  of  the  human 
mind  to  formalize  spiritual  things,  and  to  reduce 
spiritual  exercises  into  an  "opus  operatum,"  (as  the 
Romanists  reduce  the  grace  of  repentance  to  the 
imaginary  Sacrament  of  Penance,)  it  is  quite  possible 
that  the  term  Prayer,  when  it  is  said  that  Prayer  is  the 
method  of  feeding  the  lamp  with  oil,  may  need  some 
explanation.  By  prayer,  then,  we  mean  not  the  mere 
quarter  of  an  hour,  or  half  an  hour,  which  a  man  spends 
on  his  knees  daily,  but  rather  the  spirit  and  temper  of 
mind,  in  which  the  Christian  aims  at  going  through 
his  day.  There  may  be  stated  prayer,  recurring  every 
morning  and  evening,  without  the  hidden  life.  And, 
conversely,  there  may  be  the  hidden  life  under  circum- 
stances, which  render  stated  prayer  an  impossibility. 
The  prayer  we  speak  of  is  that  which  mixes  itself  up 
with  all  our  actions  and  recreations,  as  a  lump  of  some 
solid  substance,  whose  nature  is  to  melt  in  liquid,  gives 
a  taste  to  every  drop  of  the  liquid  in  which  it  is  allowed 
to   stand   awhile.     But  it  too  often  happens  that  the 


IV.]  Of  the  Life,  vn 

prayer  of  stated  periods,  though  attentively  and  devoutly 
said,  stands  isolated  and  alone,  and  never  manages  to 
transfuse  its  sweetness  into  our  ways,  character,  and 
oonduct.  Such  prayer  is  not  for  a  moment  to  bo 
identified  witli  tlio  hidden  life.  And,  on  the  other 
hand,  althougli  we  have  said  that  the  external  life  of 
orvicc  and  profession  consumes  the  grace  which  is 
ministered  inwardly,  this  is  only  true  so  far  as  tho 
external  life  is  external.  The  life  of  active  service  may 
Ihj  so  conducted  as  to  secure  fresh  supplies  of  grace. 
If  in  every  part  of  his  active  work  for  God  tho  Chris- 
tian sets  God  before  him  ;  if  he  is  very  jealous  of  the 
jiurity  of  his  motives  and  the  rectitude  of  his  intentions, 
and  very  self-searching  on  these  points ;  if  he  pauses 
awhile  amidst  his  occupations,  to  realize  tho  Presence 
of  God ;  if  he  offers  up  all  the  works  of  his  calling  to 
God  in  the  Union  of  our  Lord's  Death  and  Passion ;  if 
he  is  diligent  in  ejaculatory  prayer;  if,  even  in  tho 
little  crosses  and  annoyances  of  the  day,  he  regards  the 
will  of  God  who  sends  them,  and  takes  them  accordingly 
with  sweetness  and  buoyancy  of  spirit ;  if  he  cultivates 
the  habit  of  allowing  the  objects  of  Nature,  and  passing 
events,  to  remind  him  of  spiritual  truth,  and  lead  his 
mind  upward  ;  if,  ia  short,  he  turns  each  incident  of  life 
into  a  spiritual  exercise,  and  extracts  from  each  a  spiri- 
tual  good, — then  he  is  cultivating  the  internal  life, 
while  he  engages  in  the  external ;  and  while,  on  the  one 
fuind,  "he  is  expending  the  oil  of  grace,  he  is,  on  the 
oilier,  laying  in  a  fresh  stock  of  it  in  his  oil-vessels. 

The  main  lesson,  then,  taught  by  our  Parable,  may 
be  said  to  be  that  of  perseverance  unto  the  end.  In 
other  Scriptures,  the  doctrine  is  brought  out  that  God 
Himself  secures  the  perseverance  of  those  who  are 
truly  His  own  people, — as,  for  example,  to  quote  only 


428  Of  the  Liter  lor  Life.  [pari 

the  words  of  Our  Lord  Himself:  "My  sheep  shall 
never  perish,  neither  shall  any  man  pluck  them  out  of 
my  hand."  Ilerc  the  equally  necessary  lesson  is  ad- 
verted to,  that  perseverance  there  can  be  none  without 
spiritual  industry.  The  "vvise  virgins  had  taken  pains 
to  lay  in  a  reserve  of  oil ;  the  foolish  ones  had  taken  no 
such  pains.  The  warning,  then,  is  for  those,  in  whose 
hearts  the  flame  of  the  spiritual  life  has  been  once 
kindled,  but  who,  forgetting  the  law  of  our  moral 
nature,  that  the  best  impressions  consume  the  energies 
of  the  soul,  and  require  to  be  secured  in  theij*  results 
by  the  active  cultivation  of  Christian  graces,  give  no 
diligence  to  make  their  calling  and  election  sure,  and 
so  eventually  frustrate  that  calling  and  election.  We 
believe  there  aro  very  many  such.  We  believe  that 
where  conversion  is  considered  every  thing,  and  edi- 
fication nothing;  where  quiet  instruction  in  the 
lessons  of  holiness  is  sacrificed  to  .  exciting  addresses, 
which  stimulate  the  understanding,  and  arouse  the 
feelings;  and  where  religion  is  apt  to  resolve  itseli 
into  a  religious  emotion  every  Sunday,  just  stirring  the 
torpor  of  a  worldly  life  with  a  pleasurable  sensation, — 
there  will  be  many  such.  And  we  have  devoted  this 
little  work,  upon  which,  as  we  close  it,  we  implore  God's 
Blessing,  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  to  an  exposure 
of  the  hollo wness  of  such  a  form  of  piety,  and  to  a 
protest  in  favour  of  that  interior  life  (or,  in  other  words, 
that  Personal  Eeligion),  for  the  lack  of  which  no  bril- 
liancy of  active  service  done  to  God  can  by  possibility 
compensate: 


THE   END. 


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Middleton,"  "  Ladybird,"  etc.  Three  volumes  in  one.  With 
Illustrations.     8vo. 

**Thls  work,  which  is  by  f&r  the  best  of  the  fair  and  gifted  Authoress,  is  the 
most  interesting  book  of  fiction  that  has  appeared  for  years.  "—Cairo  Jfeu>$. 

"  It  is  a  strange,  exciting,  and  extremely  interesting  tale,  well  and  beautl- 
folly  written.  It  is  likely  to  become  one  of  the  most  popular  novels  of  the 
present  diy," — IndianapolU  0<iM4tU. 

■'  V  *'        in  which  truth  and  fiction  are  skilAilly  blended.    It  has  quite    an 
and  lovers  of  tbe  marvellous  will  find  in  It  much  that  is  interesting. " 
..order 


D.  APPLETON  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


What  I  Saw  on  the  West  Coast 

of  South  and  North  America,  and  at  the  Hawaiian  Islands.  By 
11.  Willis  B.vxlev,  M.D.  With  numerous  Illustrations.  Svo. 
G32  pp.     Cloth. 

"  With  great  power  of  observation,  much  information,  a  rapid  and  graphic 
style,  the  author  presents  a  vivid  and  instructive  picture.  He  is  free  in  his 
strictures,  sweeping  in  his  judgments,  but  his  facts  are  unquestionable,  and  his 
motives  and  his  standard  of  judgm«it  just."— -d^^/a/iy  Argus. ^ 

"  His  work  will  be  found  to  contain  a  greal  deal  of  valuable  information, 
many  suggestive  reflections,  and  much  graphic  and  interesting  descriptions." — 
Portland  Express. 

The  Conyersion  of  the  Roman 

Empire.  The  Boyle  Lectures  for  the  year  18G4.  •  Delivered  at 
the  Chapel  Royal,  Whitehall,  by  Charles  Merivale,  B.D., 

■  Rector  of  Lawford,  Chaplain  to  the  Speaker  of  the  House  of 
Commons,  author  of  "  A  History  of  the  Romans  under  the  Em- 
pire."    8vo.     267  pp. 

"  No  man  living  is  better  qualified  to  discuss  the  subject  of  this  volume,  and 
he  has  done  it  with  marked  ability.  He  has  done  it,  moreover,  in  the  interest  of 
Christian  truth,  and  manifests  thorough  appreciation  of  the  spiritual  nature  and 
elements  of  Christianity." — Evangelist. 

"  The  author  is  admirably  qualified  from  his  historical  studies  to  connect  the- 
ology with  facts.  The  subject  is  a  great  one,  and  it  is  treated  with  candor,  vigor, 
and  abundant  command  of  materials  to  bring  out  its  salient  points." — Boston 
Transcript. 

Christian  Ballads.     By  the  Right 

Rev.  A.  Cleveland  Coxe,  D.D.,  Bishop  of  Western  New  York. 
Illustrated  by  John  A.  Hows.  1  vol.,  8vo.  14  full  page  en- 
gravings, and  nearly  60  head  and  tail  pieces. 


"  These  ballads  have  gained  for  the  author  an  enviable  distinction ;  this  work 
stands  almost  without  a  rival." — Christian  Times. 

"  Not  alone  do  they  breathe  a  beautiful  religious  and  Cluistianlike  spirit, 
there  is  much  real  and  true  poetry  in  them." — Uome  Journal. 

Mount  Yernon/and  other  Poems. 

By  Harvey  Rice.     12mo. 

"  Fresh  and  original  in  style  and  in  thought.  *  *  *  Will  be  read  with  much 
satisfaction." — Cleveland  Leader. 


GENERAL  LIBRARY 
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RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

rhis  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or  on  the 

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N'?*^ 


ft^ 


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iNTERLlBRARY  LOAM 

JUM  4     1974  '■ 

UNIV.  OF  CALIF.,  BERK 


l-100m-l,'54(1887sl6)476 


ID   ^7hD0 


